Mystery  Stories  for  Boys 

The 
Crimson  Flash 


Mystery  Stories  for  Boys 

The 
Crimson  Flash 

By 
ROY  J.  SNELL 


The  Reilly  &  Lee  Co. 
Chicago 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


Copyright,    1022 

by 
The    Reilly    &    Lee    Co. 


All    Rights    Reserved 


The    Crimson    Flash 


PZ 
7 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I    JOHNNY  LOSES  A  FIGHT 9 

II     BOXING  THE  BUNCO-STEERER 24 

III  THE  FEASTERS  SEE  A  HAUNT 45 

IV  "  PALE  FACE  BONDS  " 55 

V  STRANGE  DOINGS  IN  THE  NIGHT  ...   74 

VI    JOHNNY  BOXES  THE  BEAR 85 

VII     No  BOX-A  DA  BEAR 100 

VIII     THE  GIRL  AND  THE  TIGER 112 

IX    THE  TIGER  SPRINGS 124 

X  GWEN  MEETS  A  "  HAY  MAKER  "...  134 

XI    THE  BLACK  BEAST 144 

XII  JOHNNY  WINS  DOUBLE  PAY     ....  160 

XIII  PANT'S  STORY  OF  THE  BLACK  CAT.  .  173 

XIV  IN  TOM  STICK'S  HOUSE 184 

XV     BURSTING  BALLOONS 198 

XVI     THE  WRECK  OF  THE  CIRCUS 206 

XVII     "  GET  THAT  BLACK  CAT  " 217 

XVIII     How  JOHNNY  GOT  THE  RING 232 


THE  CRIMSON  FLASH 

CHAPTER  I 
JOHNNY  LOSES  A  FIGHT 

In  the  center  of  the  "  big  top,"  which  sheltered 
the  mammoth  three-ring  circus,  brass  horns 
blared  to  the  rhythmic  beat  of  a  huge  bass 
drum. 

Eight  trained  elephants,  giant  actors  of  the 
sawdust  ring,  patiently  stood  in  line,  awaiting 
the  command  to  make  way  for  the  tumblers, 
trapeze  performers,  bareback  riders  and  the 
queen  of  the  circus. 

The  twins,  Marjory  and  Margaret  MacDon- 
ald,  just  past  ten  years  of  age,  and  attending 
their  first  circus,  stood  pressed  against  the  rope 
not  an  arm's  length  from  the  foremost  elephant. 
Suddenly  the  gigantic  creature  reached  out  a 
beseeching  trunk  for  a  possible  peanut. 


10  The  Crimson  Flash 

Sensing  danger,  Johnny  Thompson,  the  one- 
time lightweight  boxing  champion,  who,  besides 
their  maid,  stood  guard  over  the  millionaire 
twins,  sprang  forward.  Quick  as  he  was,  his 
movement  was  far  too  slow.  Marjory  jumped 
back;  there  was  an  almost  inaudible  snap.  The 
elephant  stretched  his  trunk  to  full  length  — 
then  in  apparent  anger  uttered  a  hollow  snort. 

A  broad  bar  of  sunlight  shooting  over  the  top 
of  the  canvas  wall  was  cut  by  a  sudden  flash. 
The  flash  described  a  circle,  then  blinked  out  at 
the  feet  of  three  waiting  young  women  per- 
formers. 

With  a  cry  of  consternation  on  his  lips, 
Johnny  Thompson  sprang  over  the  ropes.  Bowl- 
ing over  an  elephant  trainer  in  his  haste,  he 
bolted  toward  the  three  girl  acrobats  at  whose 
feet  the  miniature  meteor  had  vanished. 

Again  his  agile  movement  was  far  too  slow. 
Six  pairs  of  rough  hands  tried  to  seize  him. 
Johnny's  right  shot  out.  With  a  little  gurgle,  an 
attendant  in  uniform  staggered  backward  to 
crumple  in  the  sawdust.  A  ring-master,  leap- 


Johnny  Loses  a  Fight  11 

ing  like  a  panther,  landed  on  Johnny's  back. 
Dropping  abruptly,  Johnny  executed  a  somer- 
sault, shook  himself  free  and  rose  only  to  butt 
his  head  into  the  stomach  of  a  fat  clown. 

And  then  what  promised  to  be  a  beautiful 
scrap  ended  miserably.  A  razor-back,  or  tent 
roustabout,  struck  Johnny  on  the  head  with  a 
tent  stake.  Johnny  dropped  like  an  empty  meal 
sack.  At  once  four  attendants  dragged  him  be- 
neath the  tent  wall  into  a  shady  corner.  There, 
after  tying  his  hands  and  feet,  they  waited  for 
his  return  to  consciousness. 

Little  by  little  Johnny  came  to  himself,  and 
began  to  fumble  at  his  fetters. 

"Wow!  What  hit  me?"  he  grumbled,  as  he 
attempted  to  rub  his  bruised  head. 

"You  fell  and  struck  your  head  on  a  tent 
pole,"  grinned  a  razor-back. 

"Some  scrapper,  eh?"  a  second  man  com- 
mented. 

"Dope  or  moonshine?"  asked  a  third. 

"Neither,"  exclaimed  Johnny.  "It  was  — 
darn  it!  No.  That's  none  of  your  business. 


12  The  Crimson  Flash 

But  I'll  get  it  back  if  I  have  to  follow  this  one- 
horse  show  from  Boston  to  Texas." 

"You  won't  follow  nothin'  just  at  present," 
scowled  the  razor-back,  eying  his  shackles  with 
satisfaction.  "That  guy  you  hit  had  to  go  to 
the  show's  surgeon." 

"Wow!"  ejaculated  his  companion.  "And 
I  bet  this  little  feller  doesn't  weigh  a  hundred 
and  ten  stripped!  How'd  he  do  it?" 

"  Let  me  loose  and  I'll  give  you  a  free  exhibi- 
tion," grinned  Johnny,  as  he  settled  back,  re- 
solved to  take  what  was  coming  to  him  with  a 
smite. 

He  was  not  a  quarrelsome  fellow,  this  Johnny 
Thompson.  He  had  studied  the  science  of  box- 
ing and  wrestling  because  it  interested  him,  and 
because  he  wished  to  be  able  to  take  care  of 
himself  in  every  emergency.  He  never  struck 
a  man  unless  forced  to  do  so.  The  emergency 
of  the  past  hour  had  spurred  him  to  unusual 
activity.  In  a  way  he  regretted  it  now,  but  on 
reflection  decided  that  were  the  same  set  of 
conditions  to  confront  him  again,  his  actions 


Johnny  Loses  a  Fight  13 

would  probably  be  the  same.  His  one  regret 
was  that  he  had  been  unable  to  attain  his  end. 
His  only  problem  now  was  to  recover  lost  ground 
and  to  reach  the  desired  goal. 

Late  that  night,  with  stiffened  joints  and  ach- 
ing muscles,  he  made  his  way  to  the  desolate 
spot  where  but  a  few  hours  before  a  hilarious 
throng  had  laughed  at  the  antics  of  clowns  and 
thrilled  at  the  daring  dance  of  the  tight-rope 
walker. 

In  his  hand  Johnny  held  a  small  flashlight. 
This  he  flicked  about  here  and  there  for  some 
time. 

"  That's  it,"  he  exclaimed  at  last.  "  This  is 
the  very  spot." 

Dropping  on  hands  and  knees  he  began  claw- 
ing over  the  sawdust.  Running  it  through  his 
fingers,  he  gathered  it  in  little  piles  here  and 
there  until  presently  the  place  resembled  a  mini- 
ature mountain  range.  He  had  been  at  this  for 
a  half  hour  when  he  straightened  up  with  a 
sigh. 

"Not  a  chance,"  he  murmured,  "not  a  soli- 


14  The  Crimson  Flash 

tary  chance!  One  of  those  circus  dames  got  it; 
the  trapeze  performer,  or  maybe  the  tight-rope 
walker.  Which  one?  That's  what  I've  got  to 
find  out." 

Suddenly  he  leaped  to  his  feet.  A  long- 
drawn-out  whistle  sounded  through  the  dark- 
ness. 

"The  circus  train!  I've  just  time  to  jump  it. 
I'll  stow  away  on  her.  How's  that?  A  circus 
stowaway ! " 

Johnny  dashed  across  the  open  space  and,  just 
as  the  train  began  to  move,  caught  at  the  iron 
bars  of  a  gondola  car  loaded  with  tent  equip- 
ment. Climbing  aboard,  he  groped  about  until 
he  found  a  soft  spot  among  some  piles  of  can- 
vas, and,  sinking  down  there,  was  soon  fast 
asleep.  He  had  had  no  supper,  but  that  mat- 
tered little.  He  would  eat  a  double  portion  of 
ham  and  eggs  in  the  morning.  It  was  enough 
that  he  was  on  his  way.  Where  to?  He  did 
not  exactly  know. 

When  Johnny  leaped  over  the  rope  in  the 
circus  tent  the  previous  afternoon,  in  his  rush 


Johnny  Loses  a  Fight  15 

toward  the  lady  performers,  he  had  dodged  be- 
hind the  trained  elephants.  This  took  him  out 
of  the  view  of  the  twins,  Marjory  and  Margaret. 
So  interested  were  they  in  the  elephants  that 
they  did  not  miss  him,  and  not  having  noted  the 
sparkle  in  the  sunlight  which  sent  Johnny  on  his 
mad  chase,  they  remained  fully  occupied  in 
watching  the  regular  events  of  the  circus. 

The  elephants  had  lumbered  into  the  side  tent, 
the  tight-rope  walker  had  danced  her  airy  way 
across  the  arena,  the  brown  bear  had  taken  his 
daily  bicycle  ride,  and  the  human  statuary  was 
on  display,  when  Marjory  suddenly  turned  to 
Margaret  and  said: 

"  Why,  Johnny's  gone ! " 

"  So  he  is,"  said  the  other  twin.  "  Perhaps  he 
didn't  like  it.  He'll  be  back,  I'm  sure." 

The  maid  was  quite  accustomed  to  looking 
after  the  millionaire  twins,  so  when  Johnny 
failed  to  put  in  an  appearance  at  the  end  of  the 
performance,  they  passed  out  with  the  throng, 
the  maid  hailed  a  taxi  and  they  were  soon  on 
their  way  home. 


16  The  Crimson  Flash 

It  was  then  that  Marjory,  looking  down,  no- 
ticed that  the  fine  gold  chain  about  her  neck  hung 
with  two  loose  ends.  Catching  her  breath,  she 
uttered  a  startled  whisper: 

"Oo!    Look!    Margaret!    It's  gone!" 

Margaret  looked  once,  then  clasped  her  hands 
in  horror. 

"And  father  said  you  mustn't  take  it " 

"But  it  was  our  first,  our  very  first  circus!" 

"I  know,"  sighed  Margaret.  "And  wasn't  it 
just  grand !  But  now,"  she  sighed,  "  now,  you'll 
have  to  tell  father." 

"Yes,  I  will — right  away." 

Marjory  did  tell.  They  had  not  been  in  the 
house  a  minute  before  she  told  of  their  loss. 

"Where's  Johnny  Thompson?"  their  father 
asked. 

"We — we  don't  know." 

"Don't  know?" 

"We  haven't  seen  him  for  two  hours." 

"Well,  that  settles  it.  I  might  have  known 
when  I  hired  an  adventurer  to  look  after  my 
thoroughbreds  and  guard  my  children  that  I'd 


Johnny  Loses  a  Fight  17 

be  sorry.  But  he  was  a  splendid  man  with  the 
horses;  seemed  to  think  of  'em  as  his  own;  and 
as  for  boxing,  I  never  saw  a  fellow  like  him." 

"Yes,  and  Daddy,  we  liked  him,"  chimed  in 
Marjory.  "We  liked  him  a  lot." 

"Well,"  the  father  said  thoughtfully,  "guess 
I  ought  to  put  a  man  on  his  trail  and  bring  him 
back.  Probably  went  off  with  the  circus.  But 
I  won't.  He's  been  a  soldier,  and  a  good  one, 
I'm  told.  That  excuses  a  lot.  And  then  if  you 
go  dangling  a  few  thousand  dollars  on  a  bit  of 
gold  chain,  what  can  you  expect?  Better  go  get 
your  supper  and  then  run  on  to  bed." 

That  night,  before  they  crept  into  their  twin 
beds,  Marjory  and  Margaret  talked  long  and 
earnestly  over  something  very  important. 

"Yes,"  said  Marjory  at  last,  "we'll  find  some 
real  circus  clothes  somewhere.  Then  we'll  have 
Prince  and  Blackie  saddled  and  bridled.  Then 
we'll  ride  off  to  find  that  old  circus  and  bring 
Johnny  Thompson  back.  We  can't  get  along 
without  him;  besides,  he  didn't  take  it.  I  just 
know  he  didn't." 


18  The  Crimson  Flash 

"And  if  he  did,  he  didn't  mean  to,"  supple- 
mented Margaret. 

A  moment  later  they  were  both  sound  asleep. 

As  Johnny  Thompson  bumped  along  in  his 
rail  gondola,  with  the  click-click  of  the  wheels 
keeping  time  to  the  distant  pant  of  the  engine, 
he  dreamed  a  madly  fantastic  dream.     In  it  he 
felt  the  nerve-benumbing  shudder  which  comes 
with  the  shock  of  a  train  wreck.     He  felt  him- 
self lifted  high  in  air  to  fall  among  rolls  of  can- 
vas and  piles  of  tent  poles,  heard  the  crash  of 
breaking  timbers,  the  scream  of  grinding  iron- 
work, and  above  it  all  the  roar  of  frightened  ani- 
mals— tigers,   lions,   panthers,   tossed,    still   in 
their  cages,  to  be  buried  beneath  the  wreckage, 
or  hurled  free  to  tumble  down  the  embankment. 
In  this  dream  Johnny  crawled  from  beneath  the 
canvas  to  find  himself  staring  into  the  red  and 
gleaming  eye  of  some  great  cat  that  was  stalk- 
ing him  as  its  prey.     He  struggled  to  draw  his 
clasp  knife  from  his  pocket,  and  in  that  mad 
struggle  awoke. 

With  every  nerve  alert  he  caught  the  click- 


Johnny  Loses  a  Fight  19 

click  of  wheels,  the  distant  pant  of  the  engine. 
It  had  been  nothing  more  than  a  dream.  He 
was  still  traveling  steadily  forward  with  the 
circus. 

Yet,  as  he  settled  back,  he  gave  an  involun- 
tary shudder  and,  propping  himself  on  one 
elbow,  stared  through  the  darkness  toward  the 
spot  where,  in  his  dream,  the  great  cat  had 
crouched.  To  his  horror,  he  caught  the  red 
gleam  of  a  single  burning  eye. 

Instantly  there  flashed  through  his  mind  the 
row  of  great  caged  cats  he  had  seen  that  day. 
Pacing  the  floor  of  their  dens,  pausing  now  and 
again  for  a  leap,  a  growl,  a  snarl,  they  had  fas- 
cinated him  then.  Now  his  blood  ran  cold  at 
the  thought  of  the  creature  which,  having 
escaped  from  its  cage,  had  crept  along  the 
swinging  cars,  leaping  lightly  from  one  to  the 
other  until  the  scent  of  a  man  had  arrested  its 
course.  Was  it  the  Senegal  lion?  Johnny 
doubted  that.  Perhaps  the  tawny  yellow  Bengal 
tiger,  or  the  more  magnificent  one  from  Siberia. 

All  this  time,  while  his  mind  had  worked  with 


20  The  Crimson  Flash 

the  speed  of  a  wireless,  Johnny's  hand  was  strug- 
gling to  free  his  clasp  knife. 

Once  more  his  eye  sought  the  ball  of  fire. 
Suddenly  as  it  had  come,  so  suddenly  it  had 
vanished.  He  started  in  astonishment.  Yet  he 
was  not  to  be  deceived.  The  creature  had  turned 
its  head.  It  was  moving.  Perhaps  at  this  very 
moment  it  was  crouching  for  a  spring.  A  huge 
pile  of  canvas  loomed  above  Johnny.  A  leap 
from  this  vantage,  the  tearing  of  claws,  the 
sinking  of  fangs,  and  this  circus  train  would 
have  witnessed  a  tragedy. 

He  strained  his  ears  for  a  sound,  but  heard 
none.  He  strove  to  make  out  a  bulk  in  the  dark, 
but  saw  nothing.  Could  it  be  a  tiger  or  moun- 
tain lion,  jaguar  or  spotted  leopard?  Or  was 
it  the  black  leopard  from  Asia?  A  fresh  chill 
ran  down  Johnny's  spine  at  thought  of  this  crea- 
ture. Other  great  cats  had  paced  their  cages, 
growled,  snarled ;  the  black  leopard,  smaller  than 
any,  but  muscular,  sharp  clawed,  keen  fanged, 
with  glowering  eyes,  had  lurked  in  the  corner 
of  his  cage  and  gloomed  at  those  who  passed. 


Johnny  Loses  a  Fight  21 

It  was  this  animal  that  Johnny  feared  the  most 

If  he  but  had  a  light !  At  once  he  thought  of 
his  small  electric  torch.  Grasping  it  in  his  left 
hand,  he  leveled  it  at  the  spot  where  the  burn- 
ing eye  had  been,  and  gripping  the  clasp  knife 
in  his  right,  threw  on  the  button. 

As  the  shaft  of  light  flashed  across  the  can- 
vas, he  stared  for  a  second,  then  his  hand  trem- 
bled with  surprise  and  excitement. 

"  Panther  Eye,  as  I  live !"  he  exclaimed.  "  You 
old  rascal !  What  are  you  doing  here  ?  " 

The  former  companion,  for  it  was  not  a  great 
cat,  but  a  man,  and  none  other  than  Panther 
Eye,  fellow  free-lance  in  many  a  previous  ad- 
venture, stared  at  him  through  large  smoked 
glasses,  a  smile  playing  over  his  lips. 

"Johnny  Thompson,  I'll  be  bound!  Some  luck 
to  you.  What  are  you  doing  here  ?  " 

"Looking  for  something." 

"  Same  here,  Johnny." 

"And  I'll  stay  with  this  circus  until  I  find  it," 
said  Johnny. 

"Same  here,  Johnny.     Shake  on  it." 


22  The  Crimson  Flash 

Pant  crawled  over  the  swaying  car  and  ex- 
tended a  hand.    Johnny  shook  it  solemnly. 

"Slept  any?"  asked  Pant. 

"A  little." 

"Better  sleep  some  more,  hadn't  we?" 

"I'm  willing." 

"It's  a  go." 

Pant  crept  back  to  his  hole  in  the  canvas; 
Johnny  sank  back  into  his.  He  was  not  to  sleep 
at  once,  however.  His  mind  was  working  on 
many  problems.  Not  the  least  of  these  was  the 
question  of  Panther  Eye's  presence  on  the  cir- 
cus train.  This  strange  fellow,  who  appeared  to 
be  endowed  with  a  capacity  for  seeing  in  the 
dark,  was  always  delving  in  dark  corners, 
searching  out  hidden  mysteries.  What  mystery 
could  there  be  about  a  circus?  What,  indeed? 
Was  not  Johnny  on  the  trail  of  a  puzzling  mys- 
tery himself? 

Having  reasoned  thus  far  he  was  about  to 
fall  asleep,  when  a  single  red  flash  lighted  up  the 
peak  of  the  canvas  pile,  then  faded.  He  thought 
of  the  red  ball  of  fire  he  had  taken  for  a  cat's 


Johnny  Loses  a  Fight  23 

eye.  He  remembered  the  yellow  glow  he  had 
seen  when  with  Pant  on  other  occasions.  His 
mind  attacked  the  problem  weakly.  He  was  half 
asleep.  In  another  second  the  click-click  of  the 
car  wheels  was  heard  only  in  his  dreams. 


CHAPTER  II 
BOXING  THE  BUNCO-STEERER 

From  time  to  time  during  the  night,  Johnny 
awoke  to  listen  for  a  moment  to  the  click-click 
of  the  wheels.  Once  he  thought  he  caught  again 
the  play  of  that  crimson  flash  upon  the  canvas. 
Once  he  remained  awake  long  enough  to  do  a 
little  wondering  and  planning.  How  had  Pant, 
his  friend  of  other  days,  come  aboard  this  circus 
train?  What  was  he  seeking?  True,  Johnny 
had  received  a  letter  from  this  strange  fellow 
some  time  before,  in  which  he  spoke  in  mysteri- 
ous terms  of  a  three-ring  circus  and  the  Secret 
Service,  but  Johnny  had  taken  this  very  much 
as  a  joke.  What  possible  connection  could  there 
be  between  circus  and  Secret  Service?  Finding 
the  problem  impossible  of  solution,  he  turned 
his  attention  to  his  own  plight.  He  had  started 
upon  a  strange  journey  of  which  he  knew  not 

24 


Boxing  the  Bunco-Steerer  25 

even  the  destination.  In  his  pocket  was  a  five- 
dollar  bill  and  some  loose  change.  He  must 
stick  to  this  circus  until  he  had  regained  a  cer- 
tain precious  bit  of  jewelry.  How  was  he  to  do 
that?  One  of  the  three  lady  circus  performers 
had  it,  he  felt  sure,  but  how  was  he  to  find  out 
which  one  ?  Should  he  be  so  fortunate  as  to  dis- 
cover this,  how  was  he  to  regain  possession 
of  it? 

Hedged  about  as  the  life  of  the  circus  woman 
is,  by  those  of  her  own  kind,  the  task  seemed 
impossible,  yet  somehow  it  must  be  done.  It  had 
been  the  utmost  folly  for  Marjory  to  wear  her 
mother's  engagement  ring,  set  with  an  immense 
solitaire,  dangling  on  a  chain,  when  they  at- 
tended the  circus,  yet  she  had  done  it,  and 
Johnny  had  promised  to  watch  it.  He  had  kept 
a  sharp  lookout,  but  had  been  caught  unawares 
when  the  thief  had  proved  to  be  an  elephant, 
who  doubtless  had  taken  it  for  something  to  eat, 
and,  having  scratched  his  trunk  upon  it,  had 
tossed  it  to  his  lady  friends  of  the  human  species, 
to  see  what  they  thought  of  it. 


26  The  Crimson  Flash 

"Rotten  luck!"  Johnny  grumbled,  as  he 
turned  over  once  more  to  fall  asleep. 

By  a  succession  of  sudden  stops  and  starts, 
by  the  bumping  of  cars,  and  the  grinding  of 
brakes,  Johnny  realized  that  at  last  they  had 
come  to  a  stopping  place.  When  the  starting 
and  stopping  had  continued  for  some  time,  he 
knew  the  city  they  were  entering  was  a  large 
one.  Opening  his  eyes  sleepily,  he  propped  him- 
self up  on  one  elbow  and  tried  to  peer  about 
him.  It  was  still  dark.  A  stone  wall  rose  a 
short  distance  above  the  cars  on  either  side. 
Above  and  beyond  the  wall  to  the  left  great 
buildings  loomed.  From  one  of  these,  towering 
far  above  the  rest,  lights  gleamed  here  and  there. 
The  others  were  totally  dark. 

"Big  one's  a  hotel,  rest  office  buildings,"  was 
Johnny's  mental  comment.  "But  say,  where 
have  I  seen  this  before?" 

Lifting  himself  to  his  knees,  he  looked  down 
the  track  in  the  direction  they  had  just  come. 
A  tower  pointing  skyward  appeared  to  have 
closed  in  on  their  wake.  Turning,  he  looked  in 


Boxing  the  Bunco-Steerer  27 

the  opposite  direction.  A  dull  gray  bulk  loomed 
out  of  the  dark. 

"Chicago,"  he  muttered  in  surprise.  "Of  all 
places !  We've  come  all  the  way  from  that  jerk- 
water city  of  Amaraza  to  put  on  a  show  in  good 
old  Chi.  Can't  be  a  bit  of  doubt  of  it,  for  yon- 
der's  the  Auditorium  hotel,  back  there's  the  Illi- 
nois Central  depot,  and  ahead  the  Art  Institute. 
Grant  Park's  our  destination.  The  situation 
improves.  We'll  have  some  real  excitement. 
Pant  will  be  tickled  pink. 

"Pant!  Oh,  Pant!"  he  whispered  hoarsely. 
"Pant!"  He  spoke  the  name  aloud. 

Receiving  no  answer,  he  climbed  over  the  can- 
vas piles  to  the  spot  where  Pant  had  been. 

"Gone,"  he  muttered.  "Didn't  think  he'd 
shake  me  like  that ! " 

He  dropped  into  gloomy  reflections.  What 
was  his  next  move?  He  had  counted  on  Pant's 
assistance.  Now  he  must  go  it  alone. 

"  Oh,  well,"  he  sighed  at  last,  "  I'll  just  hang 
around  and  let  things  happen.  They  generally 
do." 


28  The  Crimson  Flash 

Before  darkness  came  again  things  had  hap- 
pened—  several  things,  in  which  the  fortunes  of 
Johnny  Thompson  rose  and  fell  to  rise  again 
like  bits  of  cork  on  a  storm-tossed  sea. 

Before  putting  his  hand  on  the  iron  rod  to 
lower  himself  to  the  cinder  strewn  track,  he 
gave  himself  over  to  a  moment  of  recollection. 
He  was  thinking  of  this  strange  fellow,  Pant. 
Again  he  groped  his  way  in  the  dark  cave  in 
Siberia,  with  Pant's  all-seeing  eye  to  guide  him. 
Again  he  fought  the  Japs  in  Vladivostok. 
Again  —  but  I  will  not  recount  all  his  vivid  recol- 
lections here,  for  you  have  doubtless  read  them 
in  the  book  called  "Panther  Eye."  It  is  enough 
to  say  that  the  incidents  of  this  story  proved 
beyond  a  doubt  that  Pant  could  see  in  the  dark, 
but  as  to  how  and  why  he  was  so  strangely 
gifted,  that  had  remained  a  mystery  to  the  end; 
and  to  Johnny  Thompson  it  was  to  this  time  as 

great  a  mystery  as  in  the  beginning. 

******* 

Pant  had  left  the  circus  train  at  Twenty- 
second  Street.  He  had  drawn  his  cap  down  to 


Boxing  the  Bunco-Steerer  29 

his  dark  goggles,  and  hurrying  over  to  State 
Street,  boarded  a  north-bound  surface  car. 

A  half  hour  later  he  climbed  the  last  of  six 
flights  of  stairs,  and  turning  a  key  in  a  dusty 
door,  let  himself  into  a  room  that  overlooked 
the  river  at  Wells  Street. 

This  room  had  been  Johnny  Thompson's  re- 
treat in  those  stirring  days  told  of  in  "Triple 
Spies."  Johnny  had  turned  the  key  over  to  Pant 
before  he  left  Russia.  Pant  had  renewed  the 
lease,  and  had,  from  time  to  time,  as  his 
strangely  mysterious  travels  led  through  Chi- 
cago, climbed  the  stairs  to  sit  by  the  window 
and  reflect,  or  to  throw  himself  upon  the  bed 
and  give  himself  over  to  many  hours  of  sleep. 

At  present  he  was  not  in  need  of  sleep. 
Swinging  the  blinds  back  without  the  slightest 
sound,  he  drew  a  chair  to  the  window  and,  drop- 
ping his  chin  in  his  cupped  hands,  fell  into  deep 
reflection.  His  inscrutable,  mask-like  face 
seemed  a  blank.  Only  twice  during  two  hours 
did  the  muscles  relax.  Each  time  it  was  into  a 
cat-like  smile.  Just  before  these  moments  of 


30  The  Crimson  Flash 

amusement  there  had  appeared  upon  the  river, 
far  below,  a  broad  patch  of  crimson  light. 

sf.  3(C  5JC  3}C  3JC  3|C  3JC 

Morning  before  the  circus  performance  is  like 
the  wash  of  a  receding  tide.  Dull  gray  fog  still 
lingers  in  the  air.  In  front  of  the  ropes  that 
exclude  visitors  a  few  curiosity  seekers  wander 
up  and  down,  but  it  is  behind  these  lines,  on 
behind  the  kitchen,  mess,  and  horse  tents  that 
the  real  denizens  of  the  fog  are  to  be  found. 
Here  a  host  of  attaches  of  the  circus,  and  those 
not  definitely  attached,  wander  about  like  beasts 
in  their  cages,  or  engage  in  occupations  of 
doubtful  character.  Here  are  to  be  found  in 
great  numbers  the  colored  razor-backs,  mingled 
with  the  white  men  of  that  profession.  Stake 
drivers,  rope  pullers,  venders  of  peanuts  and 
pop,  mingle  with  the  motley  crowd  of  sharp- 
witted  gentry  who,  like  vultures  following  a 
victorious  army,  live  in  the  wake  of  a  prosper- 
ous circus.  Later,  all  these  would  sleep,  but  for 
the  moment,  like  owls  and  bats,  they  cling  to  the 
last  bit  of  morning  fog. 


Boxing  the  Bunco-Steerer  31 

It  was  down  this  much  trodden  "gold  coast" 
at  the  back  door  of  the  circus  that  Johnny 
Thompson  found  himself  walking.  He  had 
taken  his  coffee  and  fried  eggs  at  a  restaurant 
that  backed  "Boul  Mich."  He  was  now  in  search 
of  Pant,  also  hoping  for  things  to  turn  up, 
which,  presently,  they  did. 

So  Johnny  sauntered  slowly  along  the  broad 
walk  bordering  the  Lake  Front  park. 

Here  and  there  he  paused  to  study  the  faces 
of  men  who  sat  munching  their  breakfast. 
Faces  always  interested  him,  and  besides,  he 
knew  full  well  that  some  of  the  sharpest  as  well 
as  the  lowest  criminals  follow  a  circus. 

His  course  was  soon  arrested  by  the  hoarse 
half  whisper  of  a  man  to  the  right  of  him. 
About  this  man — a  white  man  —  was  gathered 
a  knot  of  other  men. 

"Five,  if  you  pick  the  black  card.  Try  your 
luck!  Try  it,  brother.  Five  dollars,  if  you  pick 
the  lucky  card."  These  were  the  words  the  man 
whispered. 

Johnny  edged  his  way  to  the  center  of  the 


32  The  Crimson  Flash 

group.  In  shady  places  at  the  back  of  great 
country  picnics,  or  in  secluded  sheds  at  county 
fairs,  he  had  seen  this  game  played  many  a  time, 
but  to  find  it  in  a  Chicago  park  seemed  unbe- 
lievable. Yet,  here  it  was.  A  broad  shouldered 
man,  with  an  irregular  mouth  and  a  ragged  ear, 
evidently  badly  mauled  in  some  fight,  stood  with 
a  newspaper  held  flat  before  him.  On  the 
paper,  face  down,  were  three  ordinary  playing 
cards.  The  slim,  tapering  fingers  of  the  man 
played  over  the  cards,  as  a  pianist's  fingers  play 
over  the  keys.  Now  he  gathered  them  all  up  to 
toss  them  one  by  one,  face  up,  on  the  paper. 

"  See,  gents ;  two  reds  and  a  black !  Watch  it ! 
There  it  is!  There  it  is!  Now,  there!  Five 
dollars,  if  you  pick  the  lucky  card !  Five  to  me 
if  you  lose." 

He  shot  an  inquiring  glance  toward  Johnny. 
Johnny  remained  silent. 

A  short,  stout  man  thrust  a  five  dollar  bill 
into  the  conman's  hand.  His  trembling  fingers 
turned  a  card.  It  was  red.  With  an  oath  he 
struggled  out  of  the  ring. 


Boxing  the  Bunco-Steerer  33 

"  Can't  hit  it  always,  brother,"  a  smirky  smile 
overspread  the  conman's  face. 

"Well,  now,  I'll  make  it  easy.  There  it  is! 
Leave  it  there.  Who  will  try?  Who  will  try?" 

A  young  man  wearing  a  green  tie  passed  over 
a  ten  dollar  bill. 

"Make  it  all  or  nothing.  All  or  nothing," 
chuckled  the  operator. 

The  youth  grinned.  His  confident  finger 
picked  the  card.  It  was  black. 

"You  win,  brother,  you  win.  I  told  you. 
Now,  who'll  win  next?" 

Again  he  shot  a  glance  at  Johnny.  Again 
Johnny  was  silent. 

Twice  more  the  game  was  played.  Each 
time  the  conman  lost. 

"Everybody  wins  this  morning."  The  con- 
man's fingers  played  with  the  cards,  and  in 
playing  bent  the  corner  of  the  black  card  ever 
so  slightly  upward.  Johnny's  keen  eyes  saw  it. 
When  the  card  was  turned,  he  had  picked  it 
right.  Five  times  in  imaginary  plays  the  con- 
man tossed  the  cards  down  and  gathered  them 


34  The  Crimson  Flash 

up.  Each  time  Johnny's  eye,  following  the  bent 
card,  told  him  he  was  right.  Six  times  he  picked 
the  black  card  correctly.  Was  the  conman 
drunk?  He  thought  not.  His  keen  eyes  studied 
the  circle  of  faces.  Then  he  laughed. 

"Where  do  you  think  it  is?"  The  conman 
bantered. 

Johnny  pointed  a  finger  at  the  bent  card. 

"Why  don't  you  bet?" 

Johnny  laughed  again. 

"I  bate."  A  Swede  standing  near  Johnny 
thrust  out  a  five  dollar  bill. 

He  won. 

"See?"  jeered  the  conman.  "You're  no 
sport.  You're  a  coward."  He  leered  at  Johnny. 

Johnny's  cheek  turned  a  shade  redder,  but  he 
only  smiled. 

Again  the  Swede  bet  and  won. 

Again  the  conman  had  the  word  "coward" 
on  his  lips.  He  did  not  say  it. 

Johnny  was  speaking.  There  was  a  cold  smile 
on  his  lips. 

"I  can  tell  you  one  thing,  stranger,"  Johnny 


Boxing  the  Bunco-Steerer  35 

squared  his  shoulders,  "I'm  not  in  the  habit  of 
allowing  men  to  call  me  a  coward.  I'll  tell  you 
why  I  don't  play  your  rotten  game,  then  I'll  tell 
you  something  else.  That  man,  and  that  one, 
and  that  one  and  this  Swede  are  your  cappers. 
You  had  twenty-five  dollars  between  you  when 
I  came.  You  got  five  from  that  stranger  who 
left.  When  one  of  your  cappers  won,  he  passed 
the  money  from  hand  to  hand  until  it  came  back 
to  you.  If  they  lost  it's  the  same.  A  stranger 
has  about  as  much  chance  with  a  bunch  like  you 
as  a  day-old  chick  has  in  the  middle  of  the 
Atlantic.  But  say,  stranger,  you  called  me  a 
coward.  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do.  You've  got 
me  topped  by  seventy-five  pounds,  and  you  think 
you  know  how  to  handle  your  dukes.  I'll  box 
you  three  rounds,  and  if  you  touch  my  face  in 
any  round,  I'll  give  you  a  five-case  note,  the  last 
one  I  have.  Not  bet,  see!  Just  give!  You  can't 
lose ;  you  may  win.  What  say  ?  " 

The  conman's  lips  parted,  but  no  sound  came. 
The  eyes  of  his  pals  and  cappers  were  upon 
him. 


36  The  Crimson  Flash 

"You  wouldn't  let  the  little  runt  bluff  y'," 
suggested  the  young  capper  of  the  green  tie. 

"Oh — all,  all  right,  brother."  The  conman's 
voice  stuck  in  his  throat.  "All  right.  Somebody 
fetch  the  gloves." 

A  boxing  match,  or  even  a  free-for-all,  is  not 
so  uncommon  on  the  back  lines  of  a  circus,  but 
it  never  fails  to  draw  a  crowd.  It  was  upon 
this  inevitable  crowd  that  Johnny  counted  for 
his  backing,  should  the  three  rounds  turn  into  a 
rough  and  tumble,  with  no  mercy  and  no 
quarter. 

Once  his  gloves  were  on,  he  explained  to  the 
rapidly  growing  circle  the  terms  of  the  match. 

"There's  no  referee,  so  all  of  you  are  it,"  he 
smiled. 

"  Right-O.  We're  wid  ye,"  a  genial  Irishman 
shouted. 

"Go  to  it,  kid,"  a  sturdy  stake  driver  echoed. 

"  Are  you  ready  ?  " 

Johnny  moved  his  gloves  to  a  position  not  ten 
inches  from  his  body.  With  fists  well  extended, 
the  conman  leaped  across  the  ring.  The  blow 


Boxing  the  Bunco-Steerer  37 

he  aimed  at  Johnny's  head  would  have  felled  an 
ox,  had  it  landed.  It  did  not  land.  Johnny  had 
sprung  to  one  side.  The  next  instant  he  tapped 
the  conman  on  his  ragged  ear. 

This  appeared  to  infuriate  his  antagonist. 
Perhaps  it  served  to  bring  back  memories  of  an- 
other battle  in  which  he  had  been  worsted.  His 
rage  did  him  neither  service  nor  credit.  Time 
and  again  he  bounded  at  the  elusive  Johnny,  to 
find  himself  fanning  air.  Time  and  again 
Johnny  tapped  that  ragged  ear.  The  conman 
landed  not  a  single  blow.  When,  after  three 
minutes,  a  man  called  time,  and  the  two  paused 
to  take  a  breath,  the  plaudits  were  all  for 
Johnny. 

As  he  rested,  the  beady  eyes  of  the  conman 
narrowed  to  slits.  He  was  thinking,  planning. 
He  had  not  scored  on  the  first  bout,  the  second 
would  see  him  a  winner. 

Instantly  upon  re-entering  the  ring  he  rushed 
Johnny  for  a  clinch.  Taken  by  surprise,  the  boy 
could  not  avoid  it.  Yet,  even  here,  he  was  more 
than  a  match  for  his  heavier  opponent.  Grip- 


38  The  Crimson  Flash 

ping  hard  with  his  left,  he  rained  blows  on  the 
other's  back,  just  above  the  kidney.  That,  in 
time,  made  a  break  welcome. 

The  conman's  game  was  to  clinch,  then  to 
force  his  opponent  back  to  a  position  where  he 
could  land  his  right  on  Johnny's  chin.  This 
would  win  his  point.  More  than  that,  it  would 
enable  him  to  break  Johnny's  neck,  if  he  chose, 
and  he  might  so  decide. 

Three  times  he  clinched.  Three  times  he  re- 
ceived trip-hammer  blows  on  his  back,  and  three 
times  he  gave  way  before  his  plucky  opponent. 
When,  at  last,  time  was  called,  he  fairly  reeled 
to  his  corner. 

There  was  a  dangerous  light  in  his  eye  as  he 
stepped  up  for  the  third  round. 

"Watch  him,  kid.  He'll  do  you  dirt,"  mut- 
tered the  Irishman. 

"  Keep  your  guard,"  echoed  another. 

Johnny,  still  smiling,  moved  forward.  His 
face  was  well  guarded.  He  was  confident  of 
victory. 

Twice  the    conman    feinted    with    his    right, 


Boxing  the  Bunco-Steerer  39 

struck  out  with  his  left,  then  retired.  The  third 
time  he  rushed  straight  on.  Johnny  easily 
dodged  his  blows,  but  the  next  second  doubled 
up  in  a  knot.  Groaning  and  panting  for  breath 
he  fell  to  the  earth. 

Eagerly  the  conman  leaped  forward.  His 
glove  had  barely  touched  Johnny's  cheek  when 
a  grip  of  iron  pulled  him  back. 

"There's  no  referee.  Then  I'm  one.  An 
Irishman  for  a  square  scrap."  It  was  Johnny's 
ardent  backer. 

Panting,  the  conman  stood  at  bay. 

In  time,  Johnny,  having  regained  his  breath, 
sat  up  dizzily  and  looked  about. 

"Where's  the  five?"  demanded  the  conman. 

Johnny  held  up  his  right  glove.  "I  leave  it 
to  the  crowd  if  he  gets  it  fair." 

"  He  fouled  you  wid  his  knee !  He  jammed  it 
into  yer  stummick!  A  rotten  trick  as  ever  was 
played!"  yelled  the  Irishman. 

"Right-O!  Sure!  Sure!  Kill  him!  Eat  him 
alive!"  came  from  every  corner. 

Johnny  rose. 


40  The  Crimson  Flash 

"  We'll  finish  the  round,"  he  said  quietly. 

"  Keep  your  money,"  grumbled  the  conman. 

"No!  No!  No!"  came  from  a  hundred 
throats,  for  by  this  time  a  dense  mob  was  packed 
about  the  improvised  ring.  Chairs,  benches  and 
barrels  had  been  dragged  up.  On  these  men 
stood  looking  over  the  shoulders  of  those  in 
front. 

Like  an  enraged  bull  the  conman  stood  at  bay. 

"All  right,"  he  laughed  savagely.  "We'll  fin- 
ish it  quick." 

He  leaped  squarely  at  Johnny.  Johnny's 
whole  body  seemed  to  stiffen,  then  to  rise. 
Springing  full  ten  inches  from  the  ground  and 
ten  inches  forward,  he  shot  out  his  glove.  There 
came  the  thudding  impact  of  a  master-blow. 

The  conman  rose  slightly  in  the  air,  then 
reeled  backward  into  the  mob.  The  point  of  his 
chin  had  come  in  contact  with  Johnny's  fist. 

With  characteristic  speed,  Johnny  threw  off 
the  gloves,  seized  his  coat  and  lost  himself  in  the 
crowd. 

He  was  not  ashamed  of  his  part  in  the  affair, 


Boxing  the  Bunco-Steerer  41 

far  from  that.  He  knew  he  had  given  the  crook 
only  that  which  he  richly  deserved.  He  was  not, 
however,  at  that  moment  looking  for  publicity, 
and  escape  was  the  only  way  to  avoid  it. 

In  eluding  the  crowd  he  was  singularly  suc- 
cessful. By  dodging  about  the  horse  tent,  and 
rounding  the  mess  tent,  he  was  able  to  make  his 
way  directly  to  the  shore  of  the  lake.  Here  he 
walked  rapidly  south  until  he  found  himself 
alone.  Throwing  himself  upon  the  ground,  for 
ten  minutes  he  watched  the  small  breakers  coil 
and  recoil  upon  the  shore.  Rising,  he  lifted  his 
laughing  blue  eyes  to  the  sunshine.  Then,  scoop- 
ing up  hands-full  of  the  clear  lake  water,  he 
bathed  his  face,  his  chest,  his  arms. 

"Boy!  Boy!"  he  breathed,  as  he  beat  his 
chest  dry.  "It's  sure  good  to  be  alive!" 

A  moment  later  his  face  clouded.  "But  how 
about  that  diamond  ring?  Oh,  you  sparkler, 
come  to  your  daddy!" 

With  this,  he  repaired  to  the  show  site. 

On  returning  to  the  rear  of  the  circus  tents, 
he  was  surprised  to  be  accosted  at  once  by  a 


42  The  Crimson  Flash 

smooth-shaven,  sturdy  man  with  a  clean,  clear 
look  in  his  eye. 

"You're  the  boy  that's  so  handy  with  his 
mitts?" 

Johnny  had  a  mind  to  run  for  it,  but  one  look 
into  those  clear  eyes  told  him  this  would  be 
folly. 

"  That's  what  they  say,"  he  smiled. 

"Shake!  I  like  you  for  that."  The  stranger 
extended  his  hand. 

Johnny  gripped  it  warmly. 

"The  way  you  handled  that  conman  wasn't 
bad;  not  half-bad.  You're  a  sport;  a  regular 
one !  The  circus  boys  like  a  good  sport ;  the  real 
chaps  do.  How'd  you  like  a  job?" 

"A — a  job?"  Johnny  stammered.  "What 
kind?" 

"Circus  job." 

"What  kind?"  Johnny  repeated. 

"What  can  you  do?" 

'I  —  I—  '  suddenly  Johnny  had  an  inspira- 
tion. "Why,  I'm  the  best  little  groom  there  is 
in  three  states.  I  could  shine  up  those  fat  bare- 


Boxing  the  Bunco-Steerer  43 

back  horses  of  yours  till  you'd  take  them  for 
real  plate  glass." 

" Could  you?  I  believe  you  could,  and  you're 
going  to  have  a  chance.  Millie  Gonzales'  three 
mounts  have  been  neglected  of  late." 

Millie  Gonzales!  Johnny  caught  his  breath. 
He  had  gone  fishing  and  caught  a  whale  the 
first  cast.  Millie  Gonzales  was  one  of  the  three 
circus  girls  at  whose  feet  the  diamond  ring 
had  dropped.  Perhaps  she  was  the  one  who  had 
picked  it  up;  who  held  it  among  her  possessions 
now.  He  would  know. 

"When  can  I  go  to  work?"  he  asked  un- 
steadily. 

"Right  now.  I'll  take  you  over  to  the  sta- 
bles. Stable  boss'll  give  you  a  suit  and  some 
unionalls.  You  shape  up  the  three  and  have  'em 
ready  for  Millie  by  two  o'clock,  in  time  for  the 
grand  parade." 

"  Of  all  the  luck ! "  Johnny  whispered  into  the 
ear  of  a  sleek,  broad  backed  gray  a  half  hour 
later.  "To  think  that  I  should  have  fallen  into 
this  at  the  very  start!  Perhaps  Millie  has  it. 


44  The  Crimson  Flash 

Perhaps  she's  wearing  it  on  one  of  those  taper- 
ing fingers  of  hers  at  this  very  moment.  Is  she, 
old  boy?  Is  she?" 

The  horse  looked  at  him  with  eyes  that  said 
nothing. 

"You  won't  tell,"  Johnny  bantered.  "Well, 
then,  I'll  have  to  find  out  for  myself.  Come  on, 
you  two  o'clock!" 


CHAPTER  III 
THE  FEASTERS  SEE  A  HAUNT 

Pant  did  not  return  to  the  neighborhood  of 
the  circus  grounds  until  darkness  had  fallen. 
Then  it  was  only  to  go  skulking  along  the  beach, 
and  to  perch  himself  at  last,  owl-like,  on  a  huge 
pile  of  sand  which  overlooked  a  particular 
stretch  of  the  beach  on  which  a  huge  fire  of 
driftwood  had  been  built.  The  fire  had  died 
down  now  to  a  great,  glowing  bed  of  coals. 
About  the  fire  eight  negroes  were  seated. 

"  Razor-backs  from  the  circus,"  was  Pant's 
mental  comment.  "  Something  doing ! " 

So  filled  with  their  own  thoughts  were  the 
minds  of  the  colored  gentlemen  that  they  had 
failed  to  note  Pant's  arrival.  Seated  there  in 
the  darkness,  motionless  as  an  owl  watching  for 
the  move  of  a  mouse,  his  mask-like  face  expres- 

45 


46  The  Crimson  Flash 

sionless,  his  slim,  tapering  fingers  still,  Pant  ap- 
peared but  a  part  of  the  dull  drab  scenery. 

"Hey,  Brother  Mose;  time  to  carb  de  turkey- 
buzzard,"  chuckled  one  of  the  darkies. 

"  Brother  Mose "  turned  half  about,  stretched 
out  a  fat  hand  and  drew  toward  him  a  thin 
object  wrapped  in  a  newspaper. 

"  Sambo,"  he  commanded,  "  leave  me  have  dat 
cleavah ! " 

Sambo  handed  over  a  butcher's  cleaver. 

The  next  instant  the  package  was  unwrapped, 
revealing  a  clean,  white  strip  of  meat,  which  had 
at  one  time  been  half  the  broad  back  of  a  porker. 

"Po'k  chops!"  murmured  Mose. 

"  Um !    Um !    Um ! "  came  in  a  chorus. 

:'Ya-as,  sir.  Now  you-all  jes'  stir  up  dem 
coals,  an'  put  dem  sweet  'taters  roastin',  while  I 
does  the  slicin'  an'  de  cleavin'."  Mose  drew  a 
butcher  knife  from  his  hip  pocket. 

From  a  second  bulging  package  on  the  beach, 
two  of  his  comrades  drew  shining  yellow  tubers, 
while  others  stirred  up  the  coals,  and  raked  some 
out  to  a  circular  hole  in  the  sand,  which  had 


The  Feasters  See  a  Haunt  47 

previously  been  lined  with  ashes.  Having  tossed 
the  coals  in,  they  covered  them  lightly  with 
ashes,  at  the  same  time  calling: 

"Le'shabdem  'taters!" 

All  this  time  with  no  observer  save  the  un- 
suspected Pant,  Mose  was  operating  skillfully  on 
that  pork  loin.  With  a  slab  of  drift  wood  as 
chopping  block,  he  sliced  away  with  the  skill  of 
a  hotel  butcher.  In  a  twinkle,  the  chops  lay 
neatly  piled  in  heaps  on  the  slab.  Then,  while 
no  one  was  looking,  he  caused  a  liberal  handful 
of  the  chops  to  disappear  into  the  huge  pocket 
at  the  back  of  his  coat. 

Pant's  lips  curved  in  a  smile.  "  Holding  out  " 
he  whispered. 

"Dere  dey  is,"  exulted  Mose,  like  a  rooster 
calling  his  brood  to  a  meal.  "Dere  dem  po'k 
chops  is,  all  carved  an'  cleaned  an'  ready  fo'  de 
roastin'." 

"Um,  um,  um,"  chanted  his  companions  in 
gurgling  approval. 

Whence  had  come  these  pork  chops?  This 
question  did  not  trouble  Pant.  They  might  have 


48  The  Crimson  Flash 

been  bought  at  a  butcher  shop;  then  again,  they 
might  have  been  stolen.  It  was  enough  for  Pant 
that  they  were  there.  He  was  glad.  Not  that 
he  hoped  to  "horn  in"  on  the  feast;  he  had 
eaten  bountifully  but  an  hour  before.  Never- 
theless, he  was  glad  to  be  here.  This  little  festal 
occasion  suited  his  purpose  beautifully.  He  had 
hoped  something  like  this  might  be  going  on 
down  here.  The  pork  chops  stowed  away  in 
Mose's  pocket  amused  him.  As  he  thought  of 
them  his  former  plan  changed  slightly,  his  lips 
twisted  in  a  smile. 

"  It's  all  plain  enough,"  he  thought  to  himself. 
"  Moses  and  old  Lankyshanks,  his  buddie,  have  a 
half  hour  longer  to  loaf  than  the  rest  of  them; 
that  gives  them  time  for  a  little  extra  feast. 
The  supplies  belong  to  them  all  alike,  but  Mose 
and  Lankyshanks  get  double  portions  if  — " 
Here  he  smiled  again. 

The  preparation  for  the  feast  went  on.  Each 
man  twisted  out  of  tangled  wire  a  rude  but  serv- 
iceable broiler.  They  joked  and  laughed  as  they 
worked,  their  dark  faces  shining  like  ebony. 


The  F casters  See  a  Haunt  49 

"  Po'k  chops,  po'k  chops,  po'k  chops !  Um ! 
Um !  Um ! "  they  chanted  now  and  then. 

In  time  word  was  passed  around  the  circle, 
and  then  eight  right  hands  shot  out  and  eight 
broilers  hung  out  over  the  coals. 

Snapping  and  sputtering,  flaring  up  with  a 
sudden  burning  of  grease,  whirled  now  this  way, 
now  that,  the  pork  chops  rapidly  turned  a  deli- 
cious brown.  The  odor  which  rose  in  air  would 
have  made  a  chronic  dyspeptic's  mouth  water. 

"  Po'k  chops,  po'k  chops,  po'k  chops !  Um ! 
Um!  Um!" 

Twice  Pant  lifted  his  eyes  toward  the  stars. 
Twice  he  brought  them  down  again. 

"Haven't  got  the  heart  to  do  it,"  he  whis- 
pered to  himself;  "I'll  take  a  chance  and  wait." 

The  sweet  potatoes  had  been  dug  from  the 
roasting  pit;  the  f casters  had  sunk  their  teeth 
deep  in  juicy  fat,  when  Pant  was  suddenly 
startled  by  a  groan  close  at  hand. 

Without  moving,  he  turned  his  head  to  see  a 
colored  boy  sitting  near  him. 

Recognizing  the   round,   close-cropped  bullet 


50  The  Crimson  Flash 

head  as  one  belonging  not  to  the  circus,  but  to 
South  Water  Street,  he  leaned  over  and  whis- 
pered : 

"'Lo,  Snowball,  what  y'  doin'  here?" 

"  Same's  you,  I  reckon."  The  boy  showed  all 
his  teeth  in  a  grin.  "Jes'  sittin'  an'  a-wishin', 
dat's  all." 

"Pork  chops,  huh?" 

"Ain't  it  so,  Mister?  Ain't  dem  the  grandes' 
you  ain't  most  never  smelt?" 

"Sh,  not  so  loud,"  cautioned  Pant.  "Maybe 
there'll  be  some  for  you  yet.  Sort  of  reserve 
rations." 

"Think  so,  mebby?" 

Pant  nodded. 

Then  together  they  sat  in  silence  while  the 
feast  went  on;  sat  till  the  last  bone  and  potato 
skin  had  been  thrown  upon  the  fast  dulling  coals. 

"Huh!"  sighed  Snowball.     "Hain't  no  mo'." 

He  half  rose  to  go,  but  Pant  pulled  him  back 
to  his  seat.  Six  of  the  colored  gentlemen  were 
wiping  their  hands  on  greasy  bandanas,  and 
were  preparing  to  depart. 


The  Feasters  See  a  Haunt  51 

"  Reckon  me  and  Lanky'll  jes'  res'  here  for  a 
while,"  grunted  Mose. 

"Eh-heh,"  assented  Lankyshanks. 

The  six  had  hardly  disappeared  over  the  hill 
when  Lankyshanks'  eyes  popped  wide  open. 

"  'Mergency  rations,"  he  whispered. 

With  a  grunt  of  satisfaction,  Mose  handed 
three  pork  chops  to  Lankyshanks,  wired  his  own 
three  to  his  broiler,  stirred  up  the  fire,  then 
began  slowly  revolving  the  sputtering  chops  over 
the  sparkling  embers. 

For  fully  five  minutes  Pant  and  Snowball,  on 
the  sand  pile,  watched  in  silence  —  a  silence 
broken  only  by  an  occasional,  half  audible  sigh 
from  Snowball. 

The  chops  were  done  to  a  brown  finish  when 
Pant  suddenly  fixed  his  gaze  intently  upon  the 
big  dipper  which  hung  high  in  the  heavens. 

At  that  precise  instant,  Mose,  uttering  a 
groan  not  unlike  that  of  a  dying  man,  threw  his 
broiler  high  in  air,  rolled  over  backward,  turned 
two  somersaults,  then  stumbling  to  his  feet,  ran 
wildly  down  the  beach.  Having  dropped  his 


52  The  Crimson  Flash 

chops  on  the  coals,  Lanky  followed  close  behind. 
The  expression  of  utter  terror  written  on  their 
faces  was  something  to  see  and  marvel  at. 

Pant  still  gazed  skyward.  Snowball  gripped 
his  arm,  and  whispered  tensely : 

"Lawdy,  Mister!    Look'a  dere!" 

Pant  removed  his  gaze  from  the  heavens  and 
looked  where  Snowball  pointed,  at  the  bed  of 
dying  embers. 

"What  was  it,  Snowball?"  he  drawled. 
"  Why !  Where  are  our  friends  ?  " 

"Dey  done  lef,"  whispered  Snowball,  still 
gripping  his  arm.  "An'  so  'ud  you.  It's  a 
ha'nt,  er  a  sign,  er  sumthin'.  Blood.  It  was 
red,  lak  blood.  All  red.  Dem  fellers  was  red, 
an'  dem  po'k  chops,  an'  dat  sand,  all  red  lak 
blood." 

"  Pork  chops,"  said  Pant  slowly. 

"Yes,  sir,  po'k  chops  an'  everything.  I  done 
heard  dat  Mose  say  it  were  a  sign.  Dey's  be  a 
circus  wreck,  er  sumthin'.  Train  wreck  of  dat 
dere  circus." 

"Pork  chops,"  said  Pant  again  thoughtfully. 


The  Feasters  See  a  Haunt  53 

"Where  did  the  pork  chops  go?  Why!  There 
is  one  broiler  full  on  the  wood  pile.  They  must 
have  left  it  there  for  you." 

"No,  sir!  Dat  Mose  done  throwed  it  dere. 
Dat's  how  scared  he  was." 

"  They  won't  be  back,  I  guess ;  so  you'd  better 
just  warm  them  up  a  bit  and  sit  up  to  the  table." 

Terror  still  lurked  in  Snowball's  eyes,  but  in 
his  nostrils  still  lingered  the  savory  smell  of  pork 
chops.  The  pork  chops  won  out  and  he  was 
soon  feasting  royally. 

"Snowball,"  said  Pant  when  the  feast  was 
finished,  "would  you  like  to  earn  a  little 
money?" 

"Would  I?    Jes,  try  me,  Mister!" 

"All  right.  I  want  five  Liberty  Bonds,  the 
fifty-dollar  kind.  A  lot  of  those  circus  fellows 
have  them,  and  some  of  them  will  sell  them,  maybe 
cheap.  Don't  pay  more  than  forty-five  for  any. 
Get  them  for  thirty-nine,  if  you  can.  The  cheap 
ones  are  the  kind  I  want.  Here's  the  money. 
Don't  bet  it,  don't  lose  it,  and  don't  let  any  of 
those  crooks  touch  you  for  it.  It  will  take  you 


54  The  Crimson  Flash 

a  little  time  to  find  the  bonds.  I'll  meet  you 
right  here  in  two  hours." 

Snowball  rolled  his  eyes.  "Boss,  I  sho'  am 
grateful  fo'  th'  compliment,  but  I  is  plum  scared 
at  all  dat  money." 

"Nobody'll  hurt  you  or  take  it  from  you. 
You're  honest.  If  you  do  lose  it,  I'll  forgive 
you.  Good-by." 

Pant  strode  rapidly  down  the  beach,  leaving 
Snowball  to  make  his  way  back  to  the  circus 
grounds  in  quest  of  thirty-nine  dollar  Liberty 
Bonds,  an  article  which,  if  he  had  but  known 
it,  has  never  existed  in  legitimate  channels  of 
business. 


CHAPTER  IV 
'TALE  FACE  BONDS" 

After  leaving  Pant,  Snowball  divided  the 
money  he  had  been  given  for  the  purpose  of 
purchasing  Liberty  Bonds  into  five  little  rolls. 
These  he  deposited  in  five  dififerent  pockets 
about  his  ragged  trousers  and  coat. 

"  Dere  now,"  he  muttered ;  "  dey  won't  nobody 
snatch  it  all  from  me  at  oncet." 

He  first  wandered  down  the  back  ropes,  ac- 
costing here  and  there  a  colored  gentleman  who 
looked  as  if  he  might  be  the  proud  possessor 
of  a  bond. 

Some  laughed  at  this  bullet-headed  youngster, 
who  claimed  to  be  in  possession  of  enough 
money  to  purchase  a  "sho'  nuff  "  Liberty  Bond. 
Others,  with  prying  eyes,  leered  at  his  pockets. 
These  he  gave  a  wide  berth.  An  hour  of  this 

55 


56  The  Crimson  Flash 

sort  of  thing  netted  him  two  bonds  at  forty-two 
dollars  each. 

"Huh,"  he  grunted  at  last,  "these  here  col- 
ored circus  folks  sho'  am  plum  short  on  Liberty 
Bonds.  Reckon  I'se  gwine  try  some  white 
mans." 

Making  his  way  boldly  out  to  the  front  of  the 
circus,  where  a  thin  crowd  filtered  in  and  out, 
here  and  there,  some  few  drifting  into  the  side 
shows,  he  made  straight  for  a  man  in  uniform 
who  guarded  the  entrance  to  the  big  tent. 

"Say,  Mister,  you  all  got  any  Liberty  Bonds 
to  sell?" 

"Liberty  Bonds?"  The  man  started  and 
stared.  "Who  wants 'em?" 

"Me.    I  do,  Mister." 

"Say!"  The  man  bent  low  and  whispered. 
"  You  see  that  man  selling  tickets  in  front  of  the 
big  side  show,  by  the  picture  of  the  fat  lady?" 

"Uh-huh." 

"He's  got  some.  Bought  them  this  morning, 
cheap.  Mebbe  he'll  sell  them  to  you." 

"  Thank  ye,  Mister." 


Pale  Face  Bonds  57 

Snowball  was  away  like  a  flash. 

"Liberty  Bonds?"  said  the  ticket  hawker  of 
the  black  mustache.  "How  many?" 

"I  might  buy  one,  if  it's  cheap,  mebbe." 

"How  cheap?" 

"How  much  you  all  want?" 

"Forty  dollars." 

Snowball  shook  his  head,  "Thirty-nine. 
That's  all  I'm  payin'  jes'  now."  His  hand  was 
in  his  right  trousers  pocket. 

"Let's  see  yer  money." 

Snowball  stepped  back  a  discreet  distance, 
then  displayed  two  twenty-dollar  bills. 

"All  right,  let's  have  'em." 

"Let's  see  dat  Liberty  Bond." 

"All  right."  The  man  dug  into  his  inner  vest 
pocket,  produced  a  flat  envelope  from  which  he 
extracted  a  square  of  paper. 

"Here  it  is." 

Snowball  inspected  it  closely.  "Dat's  all 
right,  Mister.  I  git  a  dollar  back." 

The  ticket  seller  peeled  a  one-dollar  bill  from 
a  bulky  roll  and  the  deal  was  closed. 


58  The  Crimson  FlasH 

"  Say,  Mister,"  said  Snowball,  rolling  his  eyes, 
"  I  might  buy  another  one,  same  price." 

"Why  didn't  you  say  so?" 

Snowball  grinned. 

Again  the  deal  was  closed. 

Snowball  put  his  hand  into  his  left  hip  pocket 
and  repeated  his  declaration: 

"  Say,  Mister,  I  might  buy  jes'  one  more." 

For  a  second  time  the  man's  eyes  rested  on 
him  with  suspicion  lurking  in  their  depths. 

"Say,  boy,  who  you  buying  these  for?" 

"Fo'  me,  mysef." 

"  All  right,  Mr.  First  National  Bank,  here  you 


are." 


The  deal  was  quickly  closed  and  Snowball 
hastened  away,  happy  in  the  realization  that  he 
had  accomplished  the  task  set  for  him. 

Making  his  way  to  the  beach,  he  found  Pant 
sprawled  out  on  the  sand,  half  asleep. 

"Did  you  get  them?"  the  white  man  asked 
drowsily. 

:<Ya-as,  sir.  Here  dey  is."  Snowball  held 
out  the  five  bonds.  "An'  here's  de  change." 


Pale  Face  Bonds  59 

Pant  sat  up,  suddenly  all  alert. 

"You  got  three  for  thirty-nine?" 

"Ya-as,  sir." 

"Let's  have  a  look." 

Pant's  slender  fingers  trembled  as  he  spread 
the  five  squares  of  paper  out  upon  the  sand. 

"Good!"  he  muttered.  "You  got  them  all 
right.  Now  look  at  them  all,  Snowball.  See 
any  difference  in  'em  ?  "  He  held  a  lighted  match 
above  the  bonds. 

Snowball  studied  them  as  intently  as  his  rov- 
ing eyes  would  allow. 

"  No,  no,  sir,  I  don't." 

"These  two.    Look  different,  don't  they?" 

"  No,  no,  sir ;  I  can't  say  dat." 

"You're  blind,"  grunted  Pant.  "Two  of  them 
are  paler  than  the  others;  ink  is  not  so  dark. 
See?  Not  quite." 

"Oh,  yas,  ya-as,  sir." 

"Now  those  two  pale  face  bonds  were  folded 
up  with  one  other.  Remember  where  you  got 
them?"  Pant's  eyes  flashed  through  his  thick 
glasses. 


60  The  Crimson  Flash 

"No,  no,  Oh,  ya-as,  ya-as,  sir,  I  do.  It  were 
dat  'ere  white  man;  sellin'  tickets,  he  was." 

"  Good !  Now  here's  a  dollar.  That's  for  you. 
You'll  get  another  when  you  come  back.  You 
take  these  two  pale  face  bonds  to  the  ticket  seller 
and  ask  him  where  he  got  them." 

"Ya-as,  sir." 

Full  of  wonder  at  the  strange  doings  of  this 
odd  fellow  with  the  black  glasses,  Snowball  hur- 
ried back  to  the  ticket  seller. 

"Say,  Mister,"  he  demanded,  "whar'd  y'  git 
these  pale  face  bonds?" 

"What?"    The  man  stared  at  him. 

"Whar  y'  git  'em?"  Snowball  held  them  up 
for  inspection. 

"Let's  see."    The  man  made  a  grab  for  them. 

"Nem'  min'."    The  boy  darted  away. 

"Who  wants  to  know?"  the  man  demanded 
gruffly. 

"Me,  myself." 

"  I  can't  tell  exactly.  I  bought  two  from  Tom 
Stick,  the  midget  clown,  three  from  Andy 


Pale  Face  Bonds  61 

McQueen,  the  steam  kettle  cook,  and  two  more 
from  a  bunco-steerer  —  feller  with  a  bite  taken 
out  of  his  ear.  I  don't  know  which  ones  those 
are. 

"  Say,  boy ! "  The  expression  on  his  face  sud- 
denly changed.  "You  let  me  have  them  bonds." 

"No-o,  sir!" 

Snowball  dashed  away  in  sudden  fright.  With 
the  ticket  seller  close  on  his  heels,  he  dodged 
around  a  fat  woman,  nearly  collided  with  a 
baby  carriage,  leaped  the  tent  ropes.  Like  a 
jack  rabbit,  he  scooted  beneath  the  ponderous 
wagons  on  which  rested  the  electric  light  plant 
of  the  circus,  and,  at  last,  dodging  through  the 
mess  tent,  succeeded  in  eluding  his  pursuer. 

He  was  still  breathing  hard  when  he  reached 
the  place  of  rendezvous  on  the  beach. 

"What  did  he  say?"  demanded  Pant. 

"He  said  he  bought  some  from  dat  midget 
clown,  an'  some  from  a  steam  kettle  cook,  an' 
some  from  a  bunco-man  wid  a  chewed  ear.  Say, 
Mister,  do  I  get  dat  oder  dollar  ?  " 


62  The  Crimson  Flash 

Pant  held  it  out  to  him.  "What  you  puffing 
about?" 

"  Dat  ticket  man  chased  me." 

"What  for?" 

"  Don't  know,  boss." 

For  a  moment  they  were  silent. 

"Say,  Boss,"  Snowball  whispered  after  a 
time,  "  what  you  s'pose  made  dat  ere  red  splotch 
on  the  groun'?" 

"What  red  spot?"  There  was  a  suspicion  of 
a  smile  lurking  about  the  corner  of  Pant's 
mouth. 

"Man!    Don'  you  know?    'Roun'  dat  fiah?" 

"  Oh,  yes ;  I  wasn't  looking  just  then." 

"  Say,  Boss ! "  The  boy  was  whispering  again. 
"I  ain't  afraid  of  almost  nuthin'  —  nuthin'  but 
signs  and  ghosts.  You  s'pose  dat  were  a  sign  ?  " 

"It  might  have  been." 

"An'  say,  Boss,  what's  dem  colored  fellers 
sayin'  'bout  a  wreck?  Don'  mean  that  ere  cir- 
cus train's  gwine  wreck?  Man,  that'd  be  some 
kind  of  a  wreck!  Tigers  fightin'  b'ars,  lions 


Pale  Face  Bonds  63 

eatin'  elephants,  snakes  a-crawlin'  loose,  wild 
cats  a-clawin',  an  monkeys  screamin'!  Man! 
Oh,  man!" 

For  a  full  minute  Snowball  sat  silent,  wild- 
eyed  and  staring  at  the  mental  picture  he  had 
conjured  up.  Then  a  sudden  thought  struck 
him. 

"Say,  Boss,  dis  am  circus  day  ain't  it?  An' 
I  got  two  dollars  I  jes'  earned  and  ain't  spent, 
ain't  I  ?  Boss,  I'se  gone  right  now ! " 

And  he  was. 

For  a  long  time  Pant  sat  there  in  contempla- 
tive silence.  Finally,  with  one  hand  he  smoothed 
out  the  sand  before  him.  On  this,  with  his 
finger,  he  spelled  out  the  name:  BLACKIE 
McCREE. 

Then,  with  a  quick  glance  about  him,  as  if 

afraid  it  had  been  seen,  he  erased  the  letters. 

******* 

When  Johnny  Thompson  had  been  introduced 
to  the  stable  boss  and  had  been  given  his  assign- 
ment, he  lost  no  time  in  getting  on  a  suit  of 


64  The  Crimson  Flash 

unionalls  and  was  soon  at  work  sleeking  down 
his  three  broad  backed  dapple  grays. 

It  was  a  long  task,  painstakingly  done,  for 
Johnny  loved  horses  and  these  three  were 
among  the  finest  in  the  circus. 

His  mind,  however,  was  not  always  on  his 
brush  and  cloth.  In  the  grand  parade,  which, 
in  Chicago  did  not  leave  the  tent,  but  circled 
about  in  the  mammoth  enclosure,  while  the  vast 
crowds  cheered,  Millie  Gonzales  rode  standing 
on  these  three  fat  chargers,  that,  with  tossing 
manes  and  champing  bits,  seemed  at  every 
moment  ready  to  break  her  control  and  go  rush- 
ing down  the  arena.  Johnny  was  to  take  the 
horses  to  the  entrance  of  the  big  tent.  That 
much  he  had  been  told.  Would  he  there  turn 
them  over  to  Millie?  And  would  she  be  wear- 
ing the  missing  ring?  The  answers  to  these 
questions  he  could  only  guess. 

It  was  with  a  wildly  beating  heart  that  he  at 
last  led  his  three  horses  down  the  narrow  canvas 
enclosure  which  led  to  the  great  tent.  Already 
the  procession  was  forming.  Here  a  group  of 


Pale  Face  Bonds  65 

clowns  waited  in  silence.  Here  a  great  gilded 
chariot  rumbled  forward,  and  here  a  trained 
elephant  was  being  fitted  with  his  rider's  cano- 
pied seat. 

By  this  director,  then  that  one,  Johnny  was 
guided  to  the  spot  from  which  his  three  dapple 
grays  would  start. 

He  had  hardly  reached  the  position  than  a 
high-pitched,  melodious,  but  slightly  scornful, 
voice  said: 

"Why!    Who  are  you?    Where's  Peter?" 

"Who's  Peter?5'  asked  Johnny,  doffing  his 
cap  respectfully,  but  studying  the  girl's  hands 
the  meanwhile. 

"  Why,  he's  my  groom." 

"Begging  your  pardon,  he's  not;  I  am." 

"You?"  She  stood  back  and  surveyed  him 
with  unveiled  scorn.  "You?  A  little  shrimp 
like  you?" 

Johnny  was  angry.  Hot  words  rushed  to  his 
lips  but  remained  unspoken.  He  was  playing 
a  big  game.  For  the  time  he  must  repress  his 
pride. 


66  The  Crimson  Flash 

"I  — I  —  "  Millie  stormed  on,  "I  like  a  big 
groom,  a  strong  one.  I  shall  see  about  this." 

"Oh!"  smiled  Johnny,  "if  it's  strength  you 
want,  I  guess  you'll  find  me  there.  And  for 
horses,  I  know  how  to  groom  them." 

Millie  cast  an  appraising  eye  over  the  grays. 
"Did  you  do  that?" 

"Yes,  please." 

"They're  wonderful!" 

Lifting  a  dainty  foot,  she  waited  for  Johnny's 
palm.  Once  it  rested  securely  there,  she  gave  a 
little  spring  and  would  have  landed  neatly  on 
the  first  gray's  back,  had  not  Johnny  suddenly 
shot  his  arm  upward.  As  it  was,  she  rose 
straight  in  the  air  three  feet  above  the  horses 
to  land  squarely  on  the  middle  one  of  the  three. 

She  landed  fairly  on  her  feet.  A  whip  sang 
through  the  air.  She  had  aimed  a  vicious  blow 
at  Johnny's  cheek.  There  was  a  wild  flare  of 
anger  in  her  eye. 

Dodging  out  of  her  reach,  Johnny  stood 
trembling  for  fear  he  had  foolishly  wasted  his 
grand  chance. 


Pale  Face  Bonds  67 

Presently  the  girl's  lips  curved  in  a  half  dis- 
dainful smile. 

"You  are  an  impudent  fellow,  and  I  should 
have  some  one  thrash  you. 

"You  are  strong,  though,"  she  went  on,  "and 
because  of  that,  I'll  forgive  you.  In  the  future, 
however,  remember  that  I  am  Millie  Gonzales 
and  you  are  my  groom." 

Johnny  nodded  gravely.  The  procession 
moved  forward.  Millie  passed  from  his  view. 

After  calmly  reviewing  the  situation,  one  fact 
stood  out  in  bold  relief  in  Johnny's  mind:  If  it 
were  Millie  Gonzales  who  had  the  ring,  his  task 
was  to  be  a  difficult  one,  for  she  was  a  keen, 
crafty,  high-tempered,  unscrupulous  Spaniard, 
who  would  stop  at  nothing  to  gain  her  end. 

"Well,  anyway,"  he  decided,  "if  she  has  it, 
she  is  not  wearing  it.  It's  not  on  her  hand. 
Here's  hoping  it's  one  of  the  other  two." 

He  moved  to  a  position  where  he  could  watch 
the  parade.  For  a  full  three  minutes  his  eyes 
swept  it  from  end  to  end.  Out  of  it  all — the 


68  The  Crimson  Flash 

troop  of  elephants,  the  brass  band,  the  clowns, 
the  performers,  the  many  strange  carts  and 
chariots — one  figure  stood  supreme:  A  girl 
who  rode  high  on  a  throne,  mounted  upon  a 
great  chariot,  escorted  by  six  footmen,  and 
drawn  by  six  prancing  chargers. 

"The  queen  of  the  circus!"  he  thought.  "I 
wonder  who  she  is." 

Johnny  had  hardly  spoken  the  words  when, 
for  a  second,  the  girl's  smiling  face  was  turned 
his  way.  He  caught  his  breath  sharply.  "  She's 
one  of  the  three,"  he  gasped.  "  If  it  is  she  who 
has  the  ring — " 

He  did  not  finish,  for  just  then  the  van  of  the 
procession  entered  the  wing,  and  he  slipped 
away  behind  the  canvas  to  await  Millie  Gonzales 
and  the  three  grays. 

"Say  pard,"  he  whispered  to  a  circus  hand 
standing  beside  him,  "who's  this  queen  of  the 
circus?" 

"Don't  you  know?"  the  other  asked  in  sur- 
prise. "That's  Gwen  Maysfield,  the  tight-rope 
dancer.  A  regular  sport  she  is,  too;  can  box 


Pale  Face  Bonds  69 

like  a  man.  Packs  a  wallop,  too.  I've  seen  her 
knock  this  fellow  who  boxes  the  bear  clean  over 
the  ropes." 

"Boxes  the  bear?" 

"Sure.  Don't  you  know  the  act?  Feller's 
got  a  bear;  rides  bicycles,  and  all  that.  One  of 
his  stunts  is  to  put  on  the  gloves  with  the  big 
silver-gray.  Of  course  it's  a  frost.  Bear  could 
knock  him  a  mile,  if  he  wanted  to." 

Johnny  said  no  more,  but  soon  began  piecing 
together  his  bits  of  information.  Gwen  was  the 
queen  of  the  circus.  She  was  also  one  of  the 
three  at  whose  feet  the  diamond  ring  had 
dropped.  She  liked  boxing.  If  only  he  could 
manage  to  get  a  few  rounds  with  her,  that 
might  break  down  the  social  barrier  that  stood 
between  them.  Then  he  could  ask  her  about  the 
ring.  But  she  was  the  queen,  and  he  only  a 
groom.  How  was  he  to  manage  it?  She  boxed 
with  the  performer  who  boxed  the  bear.  Per- 
haps he  could  make  the  acquaintance  of  this  bear 
boxer. 


70  The  Crimson  Flash 

The  time  was  approaching  when  Millie  and 
her  three  grays  were  to  go  on.  He  hastened 
away  to  his  work. 

That  night  in  the  animal  tent,  while  the 
exhibition  was  in  full  swing,  while  thousands 
were  crowding  before  the  long  line  of  cages, 
there  occurred  a  strange  and  startling  incident; 
a  cage  plainly  marked  BLACK  LEOPARD  had 
appeared,  in  the  uncertain  light  of  night, 
entirely  empty. 

"Guess  that's  a  fake,"  a  spectator  grumbled. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  a  child. 

"Says  'Black  Pussy/'  smiled  the  father, 
"but  I  guess  there  isn't  any." 

"Oh,  Papa,  I  want  to  see  the  black  pussy!" 
wailed  the  child,  clinging  to  the  ropes,  and 
refusing  to  move  along. 

The  father  was  striving  to  quiet  the  child 
when,  of  a  sudden,  a  flash  of  crimson  light 
brought  out  the  dark  corners  of  the  cage  in  bold 
relief.  It  was  gone  in  a  twinkling,  but  in  that 
time  a  raging  fury  of  black  fur,  flashing  claws 
and  gleaming  eyes  leaped  against  the  bars. 


Pale  Face  Bonds  71 

The  child  screamed,  the  father  swore  softly. 
There  was  a  succession  of  exclamations  from 
the  crowd.  A  colored  attendant,  who  chanced 
to  be  passing  with  a  bundle  of  straw,  dropped 
his  burden  to  stare,  open  mouthed,  at  the  cage. 

When  he  again  put  his  trembling  fingers  to 
the  bundle  of  straw,  it  was  to  mutter: 

"Tain't  no  safe  place  fer  a  'spectable  colored 
man  to  wuck.  'T'ain'  safe.  All  dem  raid 
flashes  ever'whar.  Can't  fry  po'k  chops  fer  'em. 
Can't  wuck,  can't  do  nuttin'." 

That  night,  after  the  grand  performance  was 
concluded,  after  the  surging  crowd  had  passed 
out,  after  the  arc  lights  had  fluttered,  blinked, 
and  then  left  the  place  in  darkness,  Johnny  went 
out  for  a  breath  of  fresh  air  before  turning  into 
the  bunk  assigned  to  him.  He  was  walking 
around  the  end  of  the  big  top  when  a  sudden 
flash  of  crimson  appeared  against  the  canvas. 
It  was  a  flash  only,  remaining  not  one  second, 
but  Johnny  paused  to  listen. 

In  another  moment  there  came  a  whispered, 
"Hello,  Johnny,"  and  Pant  appeared. 


72  The  Crimson  Flash 

"You  work  for  this  circus?"  Johnny  asked. 

"No.    You?" 

"Yes,  got  a  job  to-day." 

"What?" 

"Horses." 

"Good.  That  puts  you  inside.  You  can  help 
me,  Johnny — help  me  a  lot,  and  believe  me,  kid, 
it's  big — the  biggest  thing  we  ever  worked  on." 
Pant's  words  came  quick  and  tense. 

"What  is  it?" 

"Can't  tell  you  now,  but  you  can  help.  Here, 
take  these  three  Liberty  Bonds.  They're  good 
ones.  You  take  'em  over  town  and  sell  'em. 
Here's  a  hundred  iron  men.  You  buy  me  five 
more  bonds  from  these  circus  men,  see?  Any 
of  'em.  You're  inside,  see?  You  can  do  it. 
Buy  five.  They've  got  'em.  They'll  sell 
'em,  too." 

"I  call  that  light  business,  dealing  in  Liberty 
Bonds  on  a  small  margin,"  grumbled  Johnny. 
"What  shall  I  pay?" 

"Thirty-nine." 


Pale  Face  Bonds  73 

"Nobody  but  a  crazy  man  would  sell  'em 
for  that." 

"  Mebbe  not,  Johnny,  but  they'll  sell  'em.  Pay 
more,  if  you  have  to.  The  game's  a  big  one,  I 
tell  you.  So  long."  Pant  vanished  into  the 
night. 


CHAPTER  V 
STRANGE  DOINGS  IN  THE  NIGHT 

The  following  day  Johnny  carried  out  Pant's 
wish  in  the  matter  of  selling  the  three  Liberty 
Bonds.  When  it  came  to  picking  up  other  bonds 
at  Pant's  excessively  low  price,  he  experienced 
greater  difficulty  than  had  Snowball.  Indeed, 
in  all  his  time  off  duty  he  secured  only  one  bond. 

"Guess  I  haven't  struck  the  right  spot  yet," 
was  his  mental  comment.  "Ill  try  again 
to-morrow." 

It  was  just  as  he  was  about  to  return  to  his 
dapple  grays  that  he  received  a  sudden  shock. 
He  had  been  idly  glancing  over  the  "Daily 
News"  when  a  headline  caught  his  eye: 

"Offers  $1,000  Reward  for  Return  of  Lost 
Gem." 

Quickly  he  read  down  the  column,  then  his 
face  fell. 

74 


Strange  Doings  in  the  Night  75 

"Guess  he  thinks  I  stole  it,"  he  muttered. 

It  certainly  looked  that  way,  for  Major  Mac- 
Donald  had  publicly  offered  a  reward  of  a 
thousand  dollars  for  the  return  of  the  ring,  and 
had  made  it  plain  that  no  questions  would  be 
asked. 

"They  won't  be  asked,  either."  Johnny  set 
his  teeth  hard.  "I'll  let  him  know  that  he  can 
keep  his  reward.  I'll  get  that  ring  back,  and 
I'll  send  it  to  him  with  no  return  address." 

Even  as  he  spoke,  he  started.  A  new  thought 
had  struck  him.  What  if  the  girl  who  had  the 
ring  should  read  of  the  reward  and  return  the 
jewelry?  Where  would  he  be  then? 

"He'd  think  I  had  stolen  it  and  given  it  to  a 
circus  girl,"  Johnny  groaned.  "Then  what 
would  he  think  of  me?" 

But  the  next  moment  he  was  resolute  again. 
"I'll  get  next  to  that  boxing  bear  fellow  right 
away,  and  I'll  cultivate  the  acquaintance  of 
Millie,  if  she  cuts  my  face  open  with  that  whip 
of  hers.  I'll  win  yet !  Watch  my  smoke ! " 

He    hastened    away,    resolved    upon    getting 


76  The  Crimson  Flash 

better  acquainted  with  Millie  Gonzales  at  once. 

That  night,  however,  offered  no  further 
opportunity  for  making  acquaintances.  Indeed, 
he  was  made  more  and  more  conscious  of  the 
fact  that  in  the  circus  there  existed  an  almost 
unbreakable  line  of  caste.  There  were  the  per- 
formers and  the  attendants.  The  attendants 
were  kept  in  their  places.  They  did  not  mingle 
with  the  performers;  they  were  distinctly  con- 
sidered beneath  them. 

"Oh,  well,"  Johnny  said  to  himself,  "if  that's 
that,  why  I'll  have  to  get  to  be  a  performer, 
that's  all." 

But  when  he  came  to  think  it  over  soberly,  he 
could  imagine  no  means  by  which  this  end  could 
be  attained. 

If  he  had  but  known  it,  the  opportunity  was 
to  present  itself  in  a  not  far  distant  time,  and 
in  a  manner  as  startling  as  it  was  sudden. 

In  one  thing  that  night  he  was  extremely 
fortunate  —  he  succeeded  in  securing  a  position 
where  he  could  get  a  clear  view  of  the  perform- 
ance of  two  very  interesting  persons,  Gwen,  the 


Strange  Doings  in  the  Night  77 

Queen,  and  Allegretti,  the  man  who  boxed  the 
bear.  The  contrast  of  the  two  stood  out  in  his 
thoughts  long  after  the  performers  had  moved 
out  of  the  ring.  Gwen  was  wonderful.  Johnny 
was  sure  he  had  never  seen  anyone  to  equal  her 
in  all  his  life.  Light  as  a  feather,  waving  her 
delicate  silk  parasol  here  and  there,  she  tripped 
across  the  invisible  wire.  Yet,  fairy-like  as  she 
was,  every  move  spoke  of  strength,  of  well 
developed  and  perfectly  trained  muscles.  She 
wore  the  accustomed  grease  paint  of  the  ring, 
but  Johnny  did  not  need  to  be  told  that  beneath 
this  there  lay  the  glow  of  a  healthy  skin. 

"She's  all  right,"  he  decided.  "Til  wager 
she's  an  American.  Only  an  American  girl 
could  be  like  that." 

Through  the  quarter  of  an  hour  during 
which  Gwen  was  the  center  of  attention  of  the 
vast  throng,  he  watched  her.  The  breathless 
leaps  in  air,  the  light,  tripping  dance  from  post 
to  post,  the  bow,  the  smile  —  he  saw  it  all  and 
breathed  hard  as  she  at  last  danced  out  of 
the  ring. 


78  The  Crimson  Flasti 

"If  she  has  the  ring,  it's  going  to  be  hard 
to  get  it,"  he  decided.  "If  another  could  be 
bought,  and  I  had  the  money,  I'd  rather  buy  it 
and  let  her  keep  the  old  one,  but  there's  only 
one  in  all  the  world,  and  if  she  has  it  I  must 
get  it  from  her.  Gwen,  big,  wonderful  Ameri- 
can girl,  I'm  for  you,  but  I'm  also  a  hard 
hearted  detective,  and  I'm  on  your  trail." 

The  antics  of  the  swarthy  foreigner  who 
boxed  the  bear  were  as  ludicrous  and  grotesque 
as  Gwen's  act  had  been  exquisite. 

"Clumsy  lobster!"  Johnny  exclaimed,  after 
watching  him  for  five  minutes.  "What  he 
doesn't  know  about  boxing  would  fill  an  ency- 
clopedia, and  if  he  didn't  have  a  good  natured 
bear,  he'd  get  his  head  knocked  off.  All  he's 
good  for  is  to  dance  with  a  bear  on  the  street 
and  hold  out  a  tin  cup  for  nickels.  Neverthe- 
less, Allegretti,  old  boy,  I've  got  to  scrape  up 
an  acquaintance  with  you  someway,  for  that's 
on  the  road  to  the  heart  of  Gwen,  though  how 
she  can  stand  the  garlic  and  the  look  of  your 
ugly  mug  long  enough  to  box  a  round  with  you 


Strange  Doings  in  the  Night  79 

is  more  than  I  can  understand." 

******* 

While  Johnny  Thompson  was  watching  the 
performance,  two  little  girls,  sitting  bolt  upright 
in  their  beds  in  the  big  house  of  Major  Mac- 
Donald  in  far-away  Amaraza,  were  planning 
wild  things  for  the  future.  Through  the  aid  of 
their  maid  they  had  succeeded  in  securing  for 
themselves  suits  that  would  do  with  the  circus — 
pink  tights,  exceedingly  short  blue  skirts,  red 
slippers  and  green  caps.  All  that  bright  after- 
noon they  had  spent  in  the  back  yard  practicing 
on  their  ponies.  Standing  up  on  the  back  of  one 
of  them  had  been  easy  after  the  first  few 
attempts,  but  when  Marjory  had  tried  standing 
with  one  foot  on  each  pony  she  had  slipped 
down  between  them  and  had  come  near  to  being 
crushed. 

"We'll  do  that,  too,  some  day,"  she  had 
exclaimed  resolutely. 

And  now,  before  they  went  to  sleep,  they  were 
planning. 

"Yes,  sir,"   Marjory  was  saying,   "that  old 


80  The  Crimson  Flash 

circus  will  come  back  here  some  time;  I  just 
know  it  will!  Maybe  next  week." 

"And  Johnny  Thompson  will  be  with  it," 
broke  in  Margaret.  "I  just  know  he  will,  and 
we'll  get  on  our  ponies  when  the  parade  is 
started.  We'll  ride  right  in  the  parade,  and 
Johnny  will  see  us  and  say,  '  There  are  my 
friends,  Marjory  and  Margaret.'  Won't  he  be 
proud  of  us!" 

"  Won't  he,  though ! "  The  other  twin  clapped 
her  hands  in  high  glee. 

They  went  to  sleep  finally,  still  thinking  of 
Johnny  and  the  circus,  but  little  dreaming  of 
the  remarkable  and  thrilling  adventures  in  store 
for  them. 

*F  1*  T*  *P  *t*  *i*  *** 

That  same  night,  after  the  circus  tents  had 
been  darkened,  two  strange  things  happened. 
The  first  was  never  made  public;  the  second  was 
the  talk  of  the  circus  people  the  next  morning. 

Scarcely  had  the  last  straggling  sight-seer 
wandered  from  the  grounds,  than  two  figures 
emerged  from  the  side  entrance  to  a  small  tent. 


Strange  Doings  in  the  Night  81 

They  were  followed  at  a  distance  by  a  third. 
Darting  directly  for  the  wall  that  lined  the  rail- 
way tracks,  which  at  this  point  run  some  twelve 
feet  below  the  surface,  but  open  to  the  air,  they 
scaled  the  wall,  and,  by  the  aid  of  a  rope,  let 
themselves  down  to  the  track. 

The  third  person,  having  followed  them  to  the 
wall  and  noted  the  direction  they  had  taken, 
contented  himself  with  following  along  the  wall. 
Coming  presently  to  some  stairs,  he  crept 
silently  down,  then  having  listened  for  a  mo- 
ment, possibly  for  the  sound  of  footsteps,  he 
peered  down  the  track.  For  an  instant  a  pale 
crimson  light  flashed  down  the  track.  It  might 
easily  have  been  mistaken  for  the  glow  of  a 
switch  lantern.  Then  he  pushed  on  after  the 
pair. 

The  two  men  left  the  tracks  at  Randolph 
street  and,  taking  a  zigzag  course,  headed  for 
the  river.  Into  a  long,  low-lying  building  facing 
the  stream  they  went.  Not  five  minutes  later 
the  individual  who  had  followed  them  was  braced 
against  a  wall,  peering  in  through  a  crack  in  a 


82  The  Crimson  Flash 

broken  window  pane.  What  he  saw  within  was 
a  low-ceilinged,  dimly  lighted  room,  furnished 
only  with  a  small  table,  four  chairs  and  a  dilapi- 
dated chest  of  drawers.  Four  men  were  bent 
over  the  table.  The  lines  of  their  faces  drawn 
in  eagerness,  they  were  staring  at  some  flat  ob- 
ject on  the  table.  Soon  one  of  them,  with  the 
tips  of  his  thumb  and  forefinger  lifted  the  cor- 
ner of  a  sheet  of  paper.  He  had  lifted  it  half 
off  from  the  flat  object,  to  which  it  appeared  to 
cling,  when  a  startling  thing  happened — the 
room  was  suddenly  illuminated  with  a  brilliant 
blood  red  light.  This  lasted  only  a  fraction  of  a 
second.  The  room  was  then  left  in  darkness, 
black  as  ink ;  for  even  the  candle  had  been  over- 
turned and  snuffed  out.  From  the  darkness 
there  came  the  sound  of  overturned  chairs,  as 
the  four  men  made  good  their  escape.  By  the 
time  they  reached  the  open  air  their  tracker  had 
vanished  utterly. 

He  was,  at  that  very  moment,  flattened  against 
the  corner  of  a  dark  wall,  and  was  quite  as  un- 
happy over  the  turn  of  events  as  they  were.  At 


Strange  Doings  in  the  Night  83 

the  very  instant  when  he  was  about  to  discover  a 
secret  of  vast  importance,  his  foot  had  slipped, 
his  face  bumped  against  the  glass,  and  the  un- 
expected happened. 

The  second  occurrence,  the  one  which  caused 
much  talk  among  the  circus  people,  happened  a 
short  time  later.  As  the  attendants  reported  it, 
it  would  seem  that  their  attention  was  first 
attracted  to  the  strange  phenomenon  by  the 
growl  of  a  lion,  whose  cage  was  in  the  corner  of 
the  tent.  To  their  surprise,  the  cage,  the  lion, 
and  even  the  straw  upon  which  he  lay  had  turned 
blood  red.  Hardly  had  they  finished  staring  at 
this  than  the  snarl  of  a  Siberian  tiger  at  the 
opposite  corner  had  called  them  to  note  that  the 
red  light,  for  light  it  must  have  been,  had  shifted 
to  the  tiger's  cage.  The  red  glare  had  contin- 
ued to  play  hide  and  seek  with  the  distracted 
animals  for  fully  five  minutes  and,  during  all 
that  time,  not  one  of  the  attendants  could  de- 
tect its  source.  At  times  it  appeared  to  stream 
down  from  the  canvas  top,  then  to  shoot  from 
a  corner,  or  to  leap  up  from  the  floor. 


84  The  Crimson  Flash 

One  notable  fact  was  reported:  In  every  in- 
stance save  one,  the  animals  whose  cages  were 
illuminated  with  crimson  light  cowered  in  a  cor- 
ner in  snarling  fear.  The  single  instance  in 
which  this  was  not  true  was  that  of  the  black 
leopard.  That  beast  leaped,  clawing  and  snarl- 
ing, at  the  bars  of  its  cage,  as  if  it  would  tear 
the  originator  of  the  crimson  flash  limb  from 
limb. 

As  the  report  spread,  the  negroes  of  the  troupe 
were  panic  stricken.  They  quit  in  numbers. 
The  owners  and  managers  were  hard  pressed 
to  keep  enough  men  to  do  the  menial  work  about 
the  tents,  and  sent  the  employment  agent  to 
search  the  city  for  recruits.  One  of  these  re- 
cruits chanced  to  be  Snowball,  the  bullet-headed 
friend  of  the  strange  hanger-on,  Pant. 


CHAPTER  VI 
JOHNNY  BOXES  THE  BEAR 

Johnny  Thompson  paced  the  beach  up  which 
the  waves  of  Lake  Michigan  were  rolling.  There 
had  been  a  storm,  the  aftermath  of  which  was 
even  now  coming  in.  Johnny's  mind  was  in  a 
turmoil.  He  had  been  with  the  circus  five  days 
now.  Two  more  days  they  would  remain  in 
Chicago.  He  was  still  groom  for  Millie  Gon- 
zales'  three  grays.  Millie  was  as  impossible  as 
ever.  Three  times  she  had  struck  at  him  with 
her  whip,  when  he  had  appeared  to  overstep  his 
rights  as  her  menial. 

"If  she  has  the  ring,  fine  chance  I've  got 
unless  I  steal  it  from  her,"  he  grumbled. 

Allegretti,  the  Italian  boxer,  was  quite  as 
impossible  as  Millie.  Once  Johnny  had  bantered 
him  for  a  boxing  match,  but  the  fellow  had 
showed  all  his  white  teeth  in  a  snarl  as  he  said: 

85 


86  The  Crimson  Flash 

"No  box-a  da  bum." 

He  had  meant  Johnny. 

Johnny's  blood  had  boiled,  but  he  had  made 
no  response.  Only  when  he  was  out  of  hearing, 
he  had  declared,  "Never  mind,  old  boy,  I'll  get 
you  yet." 

But  thus  far  he  had  not  "  got "  him.  The  way 
into  the  good  graces  of  Gwen,  queen  of  the  cir- 
cus, seemed  effectually  blocked.  He  had  not 
tried  approaching  her,  for  he  felt  that  would  be 
folly. 

In  spite  of  the  sharply  drawn  lines  of  caste 
which  prevailed  in  the  circus,  life  within  the 
tented  walls  when  the  performers  were  off  duty 
was  astonishingly  simple.  Grease  paint  came  off 
at  the  end  of  the  last  act.  About  the  dressing 
tent  and  the  assembly  yard  the  women  stars 
appeared  plain  and  simple-minded  people.  There 
was  nothing  of  the  bravado  that  Johnny  had 
expected  to  find.  The  three  girls  who  held  the 
center  of  his  attention,  because  of  the  ring,  were 
wonderfully  well-developed  physically.  Millie 
was  slender  and  quick  as  a  cat.  Mitzi  von 


Johnny  Boxes  the  Bear  87 

Neutin,  the  trapeze  performer,  was  also  slender 
and  strong.  She  was  French ;  Johnny  knew  that 
from  the  many  "Mais,  oui"  and  her  "Mais, 
non,"  with  which  she  answered  the  questions 
of  the  other  performers.  With  her  abundance 
of  yellow  hair  she  was  like  a  kitten,  as  she  curled 
up  on  a  rug  in  the  corner  of  the  tent  reading  a 
French  novel. 

But  Gwen  —  Gwen  was  perfection  itself.  Not 
too  stout,  not  too  thin;  strong,  yet  not  mascu- 
line, she  was  indeed  a  queen.  About  the  tent, 
when  off  duty,  she  wore  a  short  blue  skirt  and 
a  blue  middy  blouse  open  at  the  neck  and  tied 
with  a  dark  red  ribbon.  Twice  Johnny  had  seen 
her  boxing  with  the  Italian.  Each  time  the 
blood  had  rushed  to  his  temples.  To  think  of 
such  a  queen  taking  her  exercise  with  so  coarse 
a  creature  filled  him  with  inward  rage. 

"Oh,  well,  he's  of  the  caste,"  Johnny  had 
grumbled.  "  No  matter ;  so  shall  I  be  in  time.  I 
don't  know  just  how,  but  I  will." 

Pant,  too,  had  puzzled  him  greatly.  He  had 
not  forgotten  his  friend's  uncanny  power  of  see- 


88  The  Crimson  Flash 

ing  in  the  dark.  He  had  heard  of  the  strange 
appearance  and  disappearance  of  the  crimson 
flash  in  the  animal  tent  and  elsewhere,  and  sus- 
pected that  Pant  was  at  the  bottom  of  it,  but 
just  what  his  game  was,  or  what  strange  secret 
of  the  power  of  light  Pant  possessed,  he  could 
not  guess. 

Johnny  had  at  last  succeeded  in  buying  the 
five  bonds  which  Pant  had  wanted.  He  had 
obtained  two  of  them  for  $39  each.  These  he 
had  bought  from  a  fat,  red  faced  man  who  was 
a  guard  at  the  entrance  to  the  big  top.  He  was 
even  now  waiting  to  deliver  them  to  Pant. 

Presently  that  individual  came  shuffling  by, 
and,  motioning  Johnny  to  follow  him,  continued 
down  the  beach  until  they  had  found  a  secluded 
spot  in  a  turn  of  a  breakwater. 

"Got  'em?"  Pant  whispered. 

"Sure." 

"Good!    Let's  see!" 

"Good!  Fine!"  he  exclaimed,  after  he  had 
glanced  over  the  bonds.  "Now  can  you  tell  me 
who  sold  you  these  two  together?" 


Johnny  Boxes  the  Bear  89 

"I  don't  know  his  name;  a  fat,  red  faced  fel- 
low at  the  entrance  of  the  big  top." 

"Good!  That's  one  of  them.  They're  the 
right  kind,  I'll  wager.  Let's  see!" 

Pant  spread  the  bonds  out  on  a  broad  plank. 

"  No,  only  one ! "  he  mused.  "  Getting  careful, 
I'd  say,  Johnny."  He  turned  suddenly.  "Would 
you  risk  much  for  an  old  friend  ?  " 

"I'd  do  a  lot  for  you,  Pant." 

"Thanks!"     Pant  gripped  his  hand  warmly. 

'Take  these  two  bonds  you  got  from  that  fat 

fellow  and  sell  them  to-morrow  to  some  dealer 

in  bonds  on  La  Salle  street.    You  bought  them 

for  $39,  did  you  not?" 

"Yes." 

"You  should  get  $45.    Good  little  gain,  eh?" 

Johnny  grinned.  He  knew  Pant  too  well  to 
think  for  a  moment  that  he  would  engage  in  a 
small  business  of  trading  in  bonds  two  or  three 
at  a  time.  What  his  real  game  was,  he  was 
unable  to  guess. 

"  All  right,  old  man.  See  you  to-morrow,"  he 
said,  rising  and  tucking  the  bonds  away  in  his 


90  The  Crimson  Flash 

inner  pocket.  "I'll  hurry  back  now.  I  think 
I'm  going  to  box  the  fellow  who  boxes  the  bear, 
though  how  I  am  to  arrange  it,  I  can't  quite 
tell." 

Johnny  wandered  back  to  the  big  top.  It  was 
late  morning.  Many  of  the  circus  people  would 
be  in  the  big  tent  going  through  their  stunts. 

His  hope  of  finding  the  boxer  of  the  bear  in 
one  of  the  rings  was  not  in  vain.  He  was,  at  the 
moment  of  Johnny's  entrance,  in  the  act  of  put- 
ting the  bear  through  his  mock  heroic  battle. 

With  an  air  of  apparent  indifference,  Johnny 
leaned  against  a  center  tent  pole  and  watched 
him.  Allegretti  hated  being  watched,  Johnny 
knew.  That  was  why  he  lingered. 

The  Italian  stood  his  scrutiny  for  three  min- 
utes, then  with  an  angry  glare  in  his  eye,  he 
cried : 

"Go  'way,  you  bum!" 

Johnny's  only  reply  was  a  grin. 

"Go  'way!  No  can  box-a  da  bear  when  you 
all  time  loafin'  here." 

The  Italian  was  dancing  with  rage. 


Johnny  Boxes  the  Bear  91 

"You  can't  box  anyway,  so  what's  the  differ- 
ence?" Johnny  grinned  again. 

"No  can  box?"  The  Italian  stormed,  "No 
can  box?  You  wan'na  see?" 

"Sure,  show  me,"  Johnny  grinned. 

An  extra  pair  of  gloves  lay  near  by.  Alle- 
gretti  kicked  them  toward  him.  "  Putta  dem  on. 
'  No  can  box,'  he  says.  Allegretti  show  dat 
bum!" 

He  squared  away  in  such  an  awkward  man- 
ner that  Johnny  found  it  hard  to  suppress  a 
smile. 

"Now  where  do  you  want  me  to  hit  you 
first?"  Johnny  asked  politely. 

The  answer  was  a  volley  of  quick  blows, 
which  all  fell  upon  Johnny's  well  managed 
gloves. 

When  the  Italian  paused  for  breath,  Johnny 
tapped  him  lightly  on  the  nose.  Enraged  at 
being  so  easily  scored  upon,  the  fiery  foreigner 
fairly  went  wild  in  his  efforts  to  reach  Johnny 
with  a  blow  that  would  send  him  to  the  surgeon. 
To  avoid  these  wild  swings  was  child's  play  for 


92  The  Crimson  Flash 

Johnny.  Time  and  again  the  Italian  left  him  a 
wide  opening,  but  Johnny  only  further  enraged 
his  opponent  by  tapping  him  lightly. 

This  farce  lasted  for  five  minutes.  Johnny 
was  puzzled  to  know  what  to  do.  He  knew  that 
the  impostor,  who  called  himself  a  boxer,  was 
completely  within  his  power.  By  a  single  jab  of 
his  powerful  right,  he  could  send  him  to  dream- 
land. This,  however,  was  farthest  from  his 
thought.  To  needlessly  injure  a  man  was  never 
part  of  Johnny's  program. 

A  large,  low,  paper-topped  barrel,  used  in  the 
trained  dog  act,  stood  within  ten  feet  of  them. 
Suddenly  Johnny  resolved  what  he  would  do; 
he  would  humiliate  his  opponent.  Perhaps  that 
would  bring  him  to  terms. 

Slowly  he  forced  Allegretti  back  until  he  was 
within  five  feet  of  the  barrel  when,  with  a  quick 
right  to  the  chest,  he  lifted  him  off  the  ground 
and  landed  him  square  in  the  center  of  the  top 
of  the  tub.  There  followed  a  ripping  sound, 
the  paper  burst,  and  Allegretti  dropped  from 
sight. 


Johnny  Boxes  the  Bear  93 

With  a  smile  Johnny  stood  waiting  the  Ital- 
ian's reappearance,  when,  to  his  utter  astonish- 
ment, he  was  struck  a  sledge  hammer  blow  in 
the  middle  of  the  back. 

The  blow  sent  him  sprawling.  In  a  flash  he 
was  on  his  feet,  and  faced  about  to  meet  this 
new  and  powerful  foe.  Imagine  his  amazement 
when  he  found  himself  facing,  not  a  man  but 
a  bear.  With  gloved  forepaws,  with  broad 
mouth  grinning,  the  bear  stood  ready  for  his 
share  of  the  match. 

What  had  happened  was  evident.  The  Ital- 
ian had  neglected  to  remove  the  bear's  gloves. 
The  bear  had  now  entered  the  ring.  Johnny 
had  a  choice  of  facing  him  or  running.  It  was 
a  novel  experience,  but  he  was  not  well  ac- 
quainted with  flight,  so  he  held  his  ground. 

The  bear  advanced  with  none  of  the  skill  of 
an  experienced  fighter.  His  training  had  been 
superficial.  He  had  been  taught  to  swing  his 
arms  in  a  certain  way  when  his  opponent  swung 
his  as  a  signal.  The  bear,  however,  was  six 
times  as  heavy  as  Johnny.  One  fair  smash  in 


94  The  Crimson  Flash 

the  face  with  that  giant  paw  would  send  Johnny 
to  the  happy  hunting  grounds. 

As  Johnny  squared  back,  with  his  guard  high, 
the  bear  hesitated,  a  quizzical,  almost  human 
grin  overspreading  his  face.  Then,  seeming  to 
get  a  signal  to  rush  in,  he  came  plowing  for- 
ward, striking  straight  out  as  he  advanced. 
Johnny  sidestepped,  and,  leaping  off  his  toes, 
tapped  him  on  the  ear.  It  was  a  stinging  blow. 
Bruin's  ears  were  sensitive.  That  blow  came 
near  proving  the  undoing  of  Johnny,  for  in- 
stantly flying  into  a  rage,  the  bear  forgot  his 
training.  Dropping  on  all  fours,  he  rushed  at 
Johnny  with  the  fierceness  of  his  forest  ances- 
tors. Dodging  this  way  and  that,  Johnny  sought 
to  get  in  a  felling  blow,  but  in  vain. 

Again  the  bear  reared  upon  his  hind  legs. 
So  quickly  was  this  accomplished  Johnny  did  not 
escape  the  grappling  swing  which,  open  handed, 
the  bear  let  fly.  The  animal's  stubby  claws 
raked  his  face,  leaving  three  livid  lines  of  red. 
The  matter  was  growing  serious.  Something 
must  be  done  quickly.  Johnny  did  it.  Watch- 


Johnny  Boxes  the  Bear  95 

ing  for  an  opening,  he  at  last  leaped  high  and 
forward.  His  arm  went  up  in  one  of  his  short, 
lightning  master  blows.  There  was  the  sound 
as  of  a  steel  trap  sprung.  The  bear  whirled  in 
a  circle,  then  crumpled  to  earth. 

"There's  your  bear,"  panted  Johnny,  wiping 
his  face. 

"No  box-a  da  bear,"  groaned  the  grief 
stricken  Italian. 

"  I  should  say  not,"  said  Johnny.  "  He  doesn't 
box  fair.  He  scratches." 

"  You  kill-a  da  bear.    I  get-a  your  goat." 

"Oh!  The  bear'll  be  all  right,"  grinned 
Johnny.  "Just  give  him  a  lump  of  sugar  and  a 
sniff  of  smelling  salts.  He's  a  bit  dizzy,  that's 
all." 

"But  say!"  he  said  after  a  moment.  "You 
can't  get  my  goat.  I  ain't  got  any.  But  I  have 
a  notion  that  I've  got  yours  right  now." 

He  had,  but  the  Italian  wasn't  to  know  it  until 
some  hours  later. 

As  he  turned  to  walk  away,  Johnny  noticed  a 
well  built,  wholesome  looking  girl  in  short  skirt 


96  The  Crimson  Flash 

and  middy  standing  a  short  distance  off.  She 
was  looking  his  way  and  smiling.  It  was  Gwen, 
the  queen.  He  wanted  to  go  over  and  speak  to 
her.  He  was  sure  she  had  seen  all  that  had 
happened. 

"  Can't  afford  to  rush  things  too  fast,"  he 
whispered  to  himself  and,  turning  toward  the 
bunk  tent,  he  hastened  away. 

As  an  hour  and  a  half  remained  before  he 
must  go  on  duty,  Johnny  slicked  up  a  bit  and 
went  over  to  La  Salle  street  to  sell  the  bonds 
which  Pant  had  entrusted  to  his  care.  The  first 
two  dealers  he  approached  refused  to  buy;  they 
did  not  purchase  bonds  in  such  small  lots.  The 
third  looked  Johnny  over  carefully,  then  exam- 
ined the  bonds.  After  that,  he  wet  the  tip  of  his 
right  forefinger  on  a  sponge  and  proceeded  to 
count  out  a  handful  of  bills.  These,  with  some 
small  change,  he  shoved  beneath  the  lattice  to 
Johnny. 

"  Fine  day,"  he  smiled,  as  he  turned  away. 

'  You  bet,"  Johnny  agreed,  as  he  pocketed  the 
money. 


Johnny  Boxes  the  Bear  97 

Out  on  the  shore  of  the  lake  he  found  Pant. 

The  latter  stared  at  him  for  a  moment  in 
silence.  He  was  looking  at  the  three  red  lines 
drawn  on  Johnny's  face  by  the  bear. 

"Say,"  he  whispered  at  last,  "give  me  those 
bonds!" 

"I,  I,"  Johnny  stared,  "I  haven't  got  them!" 

"Haven't  got  them?    Where  are  they?" 

"  Sold  'em  as  you  said  to  do." 

"Sold  them?    When?" 

"  Half  an  hour  ago." 

"With  that  on  your  face?" 

"  Sure." 

With  a  low  whistle,  Pant  sank  down  upon  the 
sand. 

"Why,  what's  wrong?"  demanded  Johnny. 

"Oh!  Nothing  much.  One  of  those  bonds 
was  a  counterfeit,  that's  all." 

"Counterfeit?" 

"I  said  it." 

"  And  you  sent  me  to  sell  it  ?  " 

"I  suppose  I  should  have  told  you.  You'd 
have  done  it  just  the  same.  Anyway,  you  would 


98  The  Crimson  Flash 

have,  had  I  told  you  everything.  But  if  I  had 
told  you,  that  would  have  made  you  nervous  and 
spoiled  everything.  I'm  a  marked  man.  I 
couldn't  go  myself.  How  was  I  to  know  that 
you'd  go  and  get  branded  in  that  fashion? 

"Ho,  well,"  he  continued  after  a  moment's 
reflection,  "  it's  all  right,  I'm  sure.  The  bond 
was  perfect  except  for  one  trifling  detail.  It 
was  a  shade  lighter  print  than  those  made  by 
Uncle  Sam,  and,  after  all,  that's  really  nothing. 
Who  knows  but  the  Government  printer  failed 
to  ink  his  rollers  well  some  morning?  I  know  it 
was  a  counterfeit,  though." 

He  bent  over  and  wrote  a  name  in  the  sand, 
then  quickly  erased  it. 

Johnny  had  read  it.  "Who's  Black  McCree?" 
he  asked  promptly. 

"He,"  Pant  whispered,  "is  the  slickest  forger 
that  ever  lived,  and  the  worst  crook.  We're 
going  to  get  him,  you  and  I,  Johnny.  And  he's 
with  the  circus." 

"Did — did  you  ever  see  him?"  Johnny  de- 
manded. 


Johnny  Boxes  the  Bear  99 

"I  can't  be  sure.  Perhaps.  But  we  will, 
Johnny,  we  will!" 

For  a  moment  they  sat  there  in  silence;  then 
Johnny  arose  and  without  a  word,  walked  away. 


CHAPTER  VII 
NO  BOX-A  DA  BEAR 

There  was  one  particular  part  of  the  show 
that  afternoon  which  Johnny  was  anxious  to 
see.  So  anxious  was  he,  indeed,  that  even  the 
danger  and  mystery  connected  with  the  sale  of 
the  counterfeit  Liberty  Bonds  were  crowded 
from  his  mind.  So  intent  was  he  upon  seeing  it, 
that  he  half  neglected  his  duties,  and  received 
for  the  first  time,  directly  upon  his  cheek,  a  sharp 
cut  from  Millie's  whip.  Even  that  failed  to 
make  him  angry.  Once  Millie's  act  was  over, 
and  he  had  rushed  the  dapple  grays  to  their 
stable,  he  dashed  out  of  the  horse  tent,  through 
the  assembly  grounds,  under  the  canvas  wall  of 
the  big  top  and  found  himself  at  last  beneath 
the  bleachers  in  a  very  good  position  to  see  what 
was  going  on  in  the  ring  to  the  south  of  the 
center. 

100 


No  Box-a  Da  Bear  101 

He  breathed  a  sigh  of  satisfaction,  as  he  saw 
the  swarthy  Italian  bear  boxer,  dressed  in  his 
green  suit,  come  marching  pompously  down  the 
sawdust  trail  toward  the  ring.  The  lumbering 
silver  tip  bear  was  at  his  heels. 

The  first  part  of  their  performance,  the  ball 
rolling,  the  stilt  walking  and  bicycle  riding,  went 
off  very  well.  The  expectant  smile  on  Johnny's 
genial  face  was  beginning  to  fade  when  finally 
boxing  gloves  were  produced,  and  thrust  upon 
the  fore  paws  of  the  waiting  bear. 

Johnny's  smile  broadened.  A  wild  look  in  the 
bear's  eyes  told  him  that  something  was  about 
to  happen. 

It  did  happen,  and  that  with  lightninglike  ra- 
pidity. No  sooner  had  the  bear  felt  the  gloves 
upon  his  paws  than,  without  waiting  for  signals, 
he  let  drive  a  tremendous  right  swing  at  the 
trainer's  head.  He  missed  by  but  a  fraction  of 
an  inch. 

"Zowie!  What  a  wallop,"  whispered  Johnny. 
"He  hasn't  forgotten.  I  thought  he  wouldn't." 

Indeed,  the  bear  had  not  forgotten  the  punish- 


102  The  Crimson  Flash 

ment  he  had  received  earlier  in  the  day  and, 
whether  or  not  he  had  the  intelligence  to  know 
that  Allegretti  was  no  match  for  him,  he  had  at 
least  resolved  to  demolish  him  as  speedily  as 
possible,  for  hardly  had  the  Italian  recovered 
from  his  surprise  when  a  second  blow  aimed  at 
his  chest  sent  him  sprawling. 

Leaping  to  his  feet,  the  trainer  waved  his 
arms  in  frantic  signals.  It  was  of  no  avail. 
The  bear  had  known  the  taste  of  victory.  He 
was  not  to  be  signaled. 

Straight  at  his  trainer  he  rushed.  The  Ital- 
ian uttered  a  shout  of  terror,  then,  closely  fol- 
lowed by  the  bear,  bolted  from  the  ring. 

The  spectators,  thinking  this  was  a  part  of 
the  play,  howled  and  screamed  as  they  rocked 
with  laughter. 

To  the  Italian  it  was  tragedy.  Had  not  the 
bear  grown  fat  in  idleness,  and  so  impaired  his 
running  power,  the  affair  might  have  ended  un- 
fortunately for  Allegretti. 

As  it  was,  having  pursued  his  trainer  half- 
way down  the  length  of  the  tent,  the  bear 


No  Box-a  Da  Bear  103 

paused,  rose  on  his  haunches,  tore  a  glove  from 
his  paw  and  aimed  it  with  such  force  and  accu- 
racy at  the  trainer's  back  that  it  sent  him  claw- 
ing in  the  dust. 

With  one  more  yell,  Allegretti  rose  and  con- 
tinued his  flight.  The  second  glove  missed  its 
mark.  With  mouth  open,  seemingly  in  a  broad 
grin,  the  bear's  gaze  swept  the  circle  of  de- 
lighted specetators,  then,  appearing  to  forget  all 
about  the  incident,  he  dropped  on  all  fours,  and 
allowed  an  attendant  to  lead  him  quietly  away. 

Johnny  ducked  for  the  assembly  enclosure. 
There  he  found  the  Italian  waving  his  arms  be- 
fore the  manager. 

"No  box-a  da  bear!  No  box-a  da  bear!" 
shouted  Allegretti. 

"  No,  I'd  say  you  didn't,"  smiled  the  manager. 
"But  you  did  better  than  that.  You  put  on  a 
scream;  you  made  'em  laugh  their  heads  off. 
Do  that  every  day  and  I'll  double  your  pay ! " 

"What!"  demanded  the  outraged  trainer. 
"Do  dat  again!  Not  for  five  time,  not  for  ten 
time  my  pay.  He  want-a  keel  me.  dat-a  bear. 


104  The  Crimson  Flash 

No  box-a  da  bear.    No  more  box-a  dat-a  bear." 

No  amount  of  argument  could  make  Alle- 
gretti  change  his  mind.  He  was  scared  white. 
Johnny  and  the  bear  had  got  his  goat.  He  was 
through.  He  would  never  box  the  bear  again. 

"  Well,"  said  the  manager,  turning  to  Johnny, 
at  last,  "  I  guess  it's  up  to  you ! " 

"Up  to  me?    How?"  gasped  Johnny. 

"You  crabbed  the  Italian's  act  by  boxing  the 
bear.  Now  you'll  have  to  become  a  professional 
bear  boxer,  and  box  him  yourself.  See?" 

"  No,  I  don't  see,"  said  Johnny  stoutly.  "  Why, 
I  don't  even  know  the  signals." 

"Make  up  some  of  your  own.  Pete  Treco, 
the  tumbler,  used  to  be  a  bear  boxer.  He  can 
help  you.  We'll  be  out  of  Chicago  in  three  days. 
I'll  give  you  till  then  to  get  in  form.  What 
say?" 

"I  — I'll  try,"  said  Johnny. 

"That's  all  anybody  can  do.  And  say,  if  you 
can  get  him  to  pull  that  stunt,  chasing  you, 
throwing  the  glove  and  all  that,  the  double  pay 
offer  stands." 


No  Box-a  Da  Bear  105 

Johnny  caught  his  breath.  His  opportunity 
had  come.  There  had  come  a  shake-up.  In 
three  days  there  would  be  another,  and  he  would 
be  "  shaken  up  "  to  the  position  of  a  full-fledged 
performer,  or  he  would  be  shaken  down  out  of 
the  circus  altogether.  Could  he  make  it? 

Closing  his  fists  tight,  he  gritted  between  his 
teeth : 

"By  all  that's  good,  I  will!" 

Fiery  and  high  tempered  Millie  lost  her  groom 
that  very  day. 

As  far  as  the  circus  people  were  concerned, 
JoHnny  Thompson  vanished.  In  a  small  tented 
enclosure,  eight  hours  out  of  every  twenty-four 
were  spent  in  strenuous  attempts  to  teach  that 
bear  to  do  his  bidding.  It  was  a  difficult  task. 
More  times  than  one  he  barely  dodged  a  sudden 
swing  of  that  powerful  paw,  which  if  it  had 
landed  would  have  increased  the  demand  for  cut 
flowers  and  slow  music. 

Pant  alone  saw  him,  and  that  after  the  shad- 
ows had  fallen.  It  was  at  such  times  that  they 
talked  long  of  those  other  days  in  Arctic  Siberia. 


106  The  Crimson  Flash 

"Pant,"  Johnny  shot  at  his  friend  one  night, 
"what  are  you  here  for?" 

"Same  back  to  you,"  smiled  Pant.  "What 
are  you  here  for?  You're  not  a  circus  man. 
What  interest  can  you  have  in  learning  to  box 
a  bear?" 

"  It's  deeper  than  that,"  smiled  Johnny.  "  It's 
a  matter  of  honor.  There  are  three  girls  in 
that  circus  I  must  get  on  speaking  terms  with. 
The  only  way  to  do  that  is  to  become  a  per- 
former." 

"Oh!    It's  a  skirt!" 

"Not  exactly — only  a  diamond  ring." 

"A  ring?" 

"Yes,  listen,"  and  Johnny  proceeded  to  tell 
his  story. 

"That's  interesting,"  said  Pant,  "and  I  think 
I  can  help  you.  In  fact,  I  think  I  am  safe  in 
promising  to  tell  you  in  time  which  of  the  three 
girls  has  the  ring." 

"You  tell  me?    How?" 

"Leave  that  to  me,  I  have  ways  of  finding 
things  out.  It  can't  be  done  here,  though;  on 


No  Box-a  Da  Bear  107 

the  road,  perhaps,  or  at  a  one-night  stand.  Wait 
and  see. 

"And  now,"  continued  Pant,  "I  want  you  to 
promise  to  help  me  with  my  own  mystery.  It  is 
a  much  deeper  and  far  more  important  affair. 
You  know  the  type  of  people  that  follow  the 
circus?" 

Johnny  nodded. 

"Well,  mixed  with  these  little  crooks  is  a  big 
one  —  a  forger,  a  master  counterfeiter.  His 
work  is  so  good,  as  you  know  yourself,  that  it 
can  be  passed  on  La  Salle  street,  and  that's  going 
some.  I  have  several  samples  of  his  work.  I 
know  they  are  counterfeits,  yet  there  is  not  a 
defect  except  the  slight  lack  of  color.  They  are 
technically  perfect.  One  would  almost  say  they 
were  photographs  of  the  real  thing.  These 
bonds  are  being  secretly  passed  out  even  here  in 
Chicago.  When  we  get  out  into  the  safer  small 
cities,  I  have  no  doubt  the  state  will  be  flooded 
with  them.  It's  an  easy  game.  You  know  how 
they  work  it:  Circus  employee  has  a  bond  he 
has  been  saving,  money  all  gone,  must  sell  at  a 


108  The  Crimson  Flash 

sacrifice.  Greedy  rubes  snatch  them  up.  And 
the  worst  of  it  is,  they  are  so  perfect  that  only 
in  cases  where  two  of  the  same  number  chance 
to  come  together  will  they  be  detected.  With 
the  vast  number  of  genuine  bonds  in  the  coun- 
try, this  is  likely  never  to  happen.  So  there  you 
are.  Why,  I  doubt  if  even  the  Treasury  Depart- 
ment itself  could  detect  them.  And  this  Black 
McCree  is  at  the  bottom  of  it  all." 

"How  do  you  know  that?"  Johnny  bent  for- 
ward eagerly. 

Pant  smiled.  "He  has  a  foolish  habit  of 
scrawling  his  name  about.  He  made  the  mis- 
take of  scribbling  it  on  one  of  the  bonds  which 
later  came  into  my  hands.  He's  known  to  the 
police  the  country  over,  not  so  much  as  counter- 
feiter, however,  as  a  'Red'  —  a  dynamiter  of 
the  worst  type.  He  has  more  than  once  left  his 
scribbled  name  above  a  ghastly  piece  of  work. 
That  is  all  they  know  of  him.  He  has  never 
been  identified.  Just  why  he  has  decided  to  take 
up  the  life  of  a  sane  crook  and  enter  the  forging 
game,  I  can't  tell  unless — by  George!  I  believe 


No  Box-a  Da  Bear  109 

I  have  it !    Yes,  sir !     It's  a  financial  plot !  " 

"  How's  that  ?  "  Johnny  asked. 

"Can't  you  see?  Our  country  is  deeply  in 
debt.  Every  town  and  city  is  flooded  with  na- 
tional credit  slips  in  the  form  of  Liberty  Bonds. 
A  nation's  credit  is  its  life.  Now,  if  some  slick 
fellow  can  fill  the  safety  boxes  of  the  land  with 
bogus  bonds,  what  is  to  become  of  the  country's 
credit?  In  time  government  bonds  cannot  be 
sold  at  any  price,  for  the  would-be  purchaser 
cannot  tell  whether  he  is  buying  a  genuine  bond 
or  a  counterfeit." 

"I  see,"  breathed  Johnny. 

"And  yet,"  mused  Pant,  "  it  may  not  be  a  plot, 
after  all.  Perhaps  this  Black  McCree  thinks  he 
has  discovered  a  way  to  get  rich  quick,  and  has 
dropped  his  radical  notions.  They  mostly  drop 
them  when  they  fall  heir  to  a  piece  of  money. 
But,  anyway,"  he  straightened  up  with  a  jerk, 
"  we've  got  to  get  him." 

"What's  he  like?"  asked  Johnny. 

"  That's  what  no  one  knows.  He's  never  been 
seen.  He  may  be  large  or  small.  He  may  be, 


110  The  Crimson  Flash 

for  instance,  a  certain  husky  conman  with  a 
ragged  ear." 

"The  very  chap,"  exclaimed  Johnny.  "He's 
a  crook,  all  right.  I  caught  him  in  a  crooked 
deal  the  other  day.  We  had  a  little  boxing 
match." 

"You  can't  be  sure  he's  the  man,"  smiled 
Pant.  "  Small  crooks  seldom  do  big  jobs,  and  big 
crooks  don't  operate  con  games.  Yet  he'll  bear 
watching.  He  may  be  doing  that  as  a  blind. 

*  There's  another  fellow,  though,"  Pant  went 
on,  "a  midget  clown — Tom  Stick,  a  queer  little 
chap.  He's  the  prize  of  the  circus.  Dresses 
like  a  mosquito,  and  drives  a  huge  elephant 
around  the  ring.  Strange  part  about  him  is,  he 
insists  on  living  all  by  himself  in  a  little  house 
built  on  wheels.  Far  as  I  know,  no  one  has 
ever  been  allowed  inside  that  house  of  his.  You 
see  the  chance,  don't  you?  He  could  have  all 
kinds  of  an  outfit  in  there,  and  no  one  would 
be  the  wiser.  Of  course,  he  wouldn't  sell  many 
bonds  himself;  he'd  pass  'em  out  through  others. 

"There's  a  third  fellow,  a  cook,  the  steam  ket- 


No  Box-a  Da  Bear  111 

tie  cook,  Andy  McQueen.  Don't  know  so  much 
about  him.  What  I  want  you  to  do  is  to  get 
acquainted  with  these  men  and  see  what  you  can 
find  out.  You're  on  the  inside,  so  you  can  do  it. 
There's  another  fellow,  he's — " 

At  that  juncture  the  conversation  was  ended 
by  the  appearance  of  a  party  rounding  a  sand 
pile,  and  Johnny  hastened  back  to  the  tented 
grounds. 

"I'm  crazy  to  get  in  my  first  performance," 
he  told  himself.  "  If  it's  successful,  it'll  put  me 
on  even  ground  with  Gwen,  the  Queen.  Then 
we'll  see  what  we  shall  see.  She  looks  mighty 
interesting,  to  say  the  least." 


CHAPTER  VIII 
THE  GIRL  AND  THE  TIGER 

Late  that  night  Johnny  Thompson  was  re- 
minded for  the  hundredth  time  of  his  position 
as  a  serf  among  the  knights  and  ladies  of  the 
circus.  He  was  just  passing  into  the  now  almost 
deserted  big  top  when  he  came  face  to  face  with 
Millie  Gonzales.  In  sudden  embarrassment  he 
was  about  to  speak  to  her  and  doff  his  cap  when, 
with  chin  in  air,  she  swept  past  him. 

Setting  his  teeth  hard,  Johnny  hastened  on. 
Only  when  he  was  at  a  safe  distance  did  he  give 
vent  to  his  feelings. 

"If  it  wasn't  for  the  ring,  I  wouldn't  stand 
for  it,"  he  raged  in  a  whisper,  "  I,  I'd,  well,  I'd 
make  her  bite  her  own  sharp  tongue.  Maybe,'* 
he  reflected,  "  maybe  some  time  I  will." 

The  incident  was  soon  forgotten,  and  it  was 
not  so  long  after  that  Johnny  was  made  to  real- 

112 


The  Girl  and  the  Tiger  113 

ize  that  not  all  the  ladies  of  the  circus  were  like 
Millie,  not  even  those  who  ranked  above  her. 

In  a  dark  corner  of  the  tent,  Johnny  threw 
himself  on  a  pile  of  netting  to  think.  Life  had 
grown  strangely  complicated  for  him  since  he 
had  joined  the  show.  Problems  great  and  small 
lay  before  him  for  solving.  It  was  like  a  lesson 
in  algebra.  There  was  the  problem  of  boxing 
the  bear.  His  ability  to  solve  that  problem 
would  be  tested  all  too  soon,  on  the  day  after 
to-morrow.  In  some  small  city  he  would  have 
his  try-out.  Depending  upon  the  successful  solv- 
ing of  this  problem  was  the  other  and  more 
important  one,  that  of  the  ring.  Who  had  it? 
Millie,  the  bareback  rider,  Mitzi,  the  trapeze 
performer,  or  Gwen,  the  dancing  queen  of  the 
tight  wire?  Thus  far  he  had  not  the  slightest 
clue.  If  one  of  them  had  it,  she  never  had  worn 
it  while  Johnny  was  in  sight.  Could  it  be  that 
the  one  in  possession  of  it  suspected  him  of 
seeking  it?  That  did  not  seem  probable. 

"And  yet,"  he  reflected,  "stranger  things  have 
happened.  She  may  have  seen  me  make  that 


114  The  Crimson  Flash 

foolhardy  dash  for  it  when  the  elephant  flicked 
it  from  the  chain." 

But  at  once  his  mind  swept  on  to  the  third 
and  most  important  problem  of  all  —  Pant's 
problem,  the  problem  of  the  counterfeit  bonds. 
Pant  had  named  three  men  who  might  be  re- 
sponsible, the  conman  of  the  ragged  ear,  the 
midget  clown,  the  steam  kettle  cook.  Johnny 
Thompson  was  one  of  the  kind  of  fellows  who, 
when  they  recognize  a  great  and  important  prob- 
lem, set  themselves  to  solving  it,  leaving  all 
minor  difficulties  to  take  care  of  themselves.  As 
he  lay  there  now,  he  realized  that  Pant's  prob- 
lem had  already  become  his;  that  for  the  time 
being,  the  ring  might  be  all  but  forgotten.  And 
yet  he  hoped  that,  as  the  more  important  and 
difficult  problem  was  being  solved,  this  one  of 
lesser  importance  would  work  itself  out. 

"Well,  anyway,"  he  mumbled,  half  rising, 
"my  success  at  boxing  the  bear  comes  first,  for 
unless  I  put  that  stunt  across,  I  will  have  pre- 
cious little  chance  to  discover  the  whereabouts 
of  the  ring,  or  to  help  Pant  run  down  the  coun- 


The  Girl  and  the  Tiger  115 

terfeiter.  To-morrow's  my  last  day  of  training. 
Me  for  my  bunk." 

But  just  as  he  was  about  to  get  upon  his  feet 
he  checked  himself  and  sank  back  in  his  place. 
A  vision  had  struck  his  eye  —  a  vision  of  lithe 
wonder  and  beauty.  It  was  dancing  along  a 
silver  wire. 

It  was  Gwen,  Queen  of  the  circus.  The  great 
tent  was  totally  dark,  save  for  the  corner  where 
she  practiced.  She  had  arranged  a  spot  light  in 
such  a  manner  that  its  brilliant  rays  struck 
squarely  across  the  tightly  drawn  wire,  and 
there  in  that  light,  which  was  flashed  back  by 
her  brilliant  costume  and  her  tossing  umbrella, 
she  was  performing  all  unconscious  that  anyone 
was  watching  her. 

Johnny  Thompson  thought  he  was  the  only 
onlooker,  and  perhaps  at  first  he  was.  If  so,  it 
was  not  for  long.  Had  he  but  known  the  nature 
of  that  other  spectator,  he  might  have  leaped  to 
his  feet  and  rushed  to  warn  the  queen  of  her 
danger.  Not  knowing,  he  sat  entranced  by  the 
wonderful  apparition  who  seemed  more  a  being 


116  The  Crimson  Flash 

of  another  world,  or  perhaps  some  tropical  bird, 
as  she  flitted  from  end  to  end  of  that  silver  wire. 
Now  she  rose  straight  in  air  and,  seeming  to 
soar  aloft,  swept  down  to  the  wire  again.  And 
now  she  dropped  upon  her  hands  to  bend  and 
twist  in  a  blinding  whirl,  while  her  gleaming 
parasol  spun  above  her. 

"Urn,"  Johnny  breathed;  then  again,  "Urn!" 
But  what  was  that?  He  thought  he  detected 
a  stealthy  movement  to  the  right  of  him.  It 
might  have  been  but  the  swaying  of  a  tent  pole 
shaken  by  the  wind,  but  he  kept  his  eyes  upon 
the  spot  for  some  time.  He  had  concluded  it 
was  nothing,  and  was  about  to  turn  his  attention 
to  the  girl  again,  when  the  movement  came 
again,  this  time  closer  at  hand.  At  the  same 
time  he  heard  a  sound  that  in  a  place  less  quiet 
to  an  untrained  ear  would  be  nothing  at  all.  To 
Johnny  it  spoke  of  danger  —  perhaps  danger  to 
himself,  perhaps  to  the  girl.  He  thought  of  the 
counterfeiters.  Did  they  know  he  had  joined 
Pant  in  the  task  of  hunting  them  down,  and 
realizing  his  importance  as  an  inside  man,  had 


The  Girl  and  the  Tiger  1 17 

they  decided  to  do  away  with  him  at  once?  Or 
was  this  some  enemy  of  the  beautiful  dancer? 

Danger,  Johnny  had  learned,  loses  much  of  its 
terror  when  squarely  faced.  He  now  threw  him- 
self upon  the  sawdust  and  began  creeping,  knife 
in  hand,  toward  the  spot  from  which  the  sound 
had  come. 

Ten  feet  he  crawled,  then  paused  to  listen.  In 
the  stillness  he  heard  the  occasional  creak  of  the 
wire,  the  spatter  of  the  spot  light.  Then  again 
he  ^ught  that  gliding  sound.  It  was  retreating 
from  him,  moving  closer  to  the  girl.  This  time 
he  crept  twenty  feet  or  more  before  he  paused. 
Again  the  same  sounds  greeted  his  strained  ears. 
Again  the  gliding  sound.  The  creature,  whether 
beast  or  human,  traveling  faster  than  he,  must 
be  not  more  than  thirty  feet  from  the  swinging, 
swaying  girl. 

And  now,  like  a  flash,  his  eyes,  for  a  moment 
relieved  from  the  dancer's  dazzling  light,  saw 
the  creature  —  a  gaunt  tawny  beast  it  was,  a 
tiger  stalking  human  prey.  For  a  second  Johnny 
shivered  and  shrank  back.  How  had  this  crea- 


118  The  Crimson  Flash 

ture  escaped  ?  This  he  could  not  know.  Its  pur- 
pose was  all  too  evident.  Attracted  by  the  gleam 
of  the  fairylike  figure  dancing  on  the  wire,  it 
was  thinking  only  of  breaking  her  bones  with 
its  yellow  fangs. 

Johnny  paused  for  half  a  minute,  then  re- 
sumed his  forward  movement.  Poorly  armed  as 
he  was,  he  would  not  allow  the  beast  to  have  its 
way  unopposed. 

Yet,  after  covering  another  yard  or  two,  he 
paused.  The  girl  was  ten  feet  in  air.  Did  the 
tiger  have  the  power  to  leap  that  high?  For  a 
tiger  of  the  jungle  this  would  be  no  feat  at  all, 
but  for  this  one  of  the  cage,  Johnny  was  in 
doubt.  And  Gwen?  Did  she  have  the  iron  nerve 
to  keep  on  dancing  down  the  wire  with  a  great 
yellow  beast  leaping  madly  for  her  feet? 

It  was  a  tense  moment.  Every  muscle  in  his 
body  quivered.  The  hand  that  gripped  his  knife 
almost  crushed  the  hilt. 

The  questions  that  surged  through  his  brain 
were  not  long  in  being  answered,  for  now,  in  the 
dim  half  light  about  her,  the  girl  saw  the  beast. 


The  Girl  and  the  Tiger  1 19 

For  one  brief  second  her  eyes  were  dilated  with 
fear.  The  parasol,  trembling,  wavering,  almost 
slipped  from  her  grasp. 

Johnny  rose  on  one  knee.  "  If  she  falls?  If 
she  falls  ?  "  he  breathed  silently. 

But  she  did  not  fall.  Seeming  to  summon  all 
her  nerve  and  strength,  she  held  her  parasol 
high  and  once  more  danced  gracefully  down  the 
wire. 

s|c  ^e  jjc  3)c  jjc  ^c  % 

Two  hours  before  this  moment  in  our  story, 
Pant  had  left  the  circus  grounds,  and,  crossing 
a  viaduct  over  the  tracks,  had  made  his  way 
down  the  avenue  toward  the  river.  As  he  cut 
across  the  roadway  and  lost  himself  down  a 
dark  alley  near  the  river,  he  might  have  been 
heard  saying  to  himself: 

"The  bear,  driven  from  his  lair,  returns;  the 
rabbit  circles  back  to  his  brush  pile;  sometimes 
crooks  return  to  their  rendezvous.  I  wonder  if 
they  will  this  time?  Well,  we  shall  see  what  we 
shall  see.  ': 

He  was  by  this  time  nearing  a  long,  low-lying 


120  The  Crimson  Flash 

building  that  flanked  the  river.  Before  a  door 
which  was  reached  by  three  downward  steps,  he 
paused.  All  was  dark,  silent,  mysterious.  For 
a  moment  he  listened  intently,  then  after  a  hasty 
glance  up  and  down  the  deserted  alley,  he  darted 
to  a  low,  narrow  window.  His  efforts  to  lift 
the  sash  were  fruitless.  Quickly  drawing  a  thin- 
bladed  knife  from  his  pocket,  he  inserted  the 
blade  beneath  the  catch.  There  was  a  click. 
The  next  instant  Pant  had  lifted  the  sash,  dived 
through  and  closed  the  window  after  him. 

The  room  was  utterly  dark,  yet  he  appeared 
to  have  no  difficulty  in  finding  his  way  about  the 
place.  Whether  he  had  a  previous  knowledge 
of  the  building,  was  endowed  with  an  instinctive 
sense  of  location  of  things,  or  could  see  in  the 
dark,  would  have  been  a  question  too  difficult 
for  a  casual  thinker  to  answer.  An  observer, 
had  there  been  one,  might  have  said  that  the 
room  had  a  strange  way  of  flashing  crimson  for 
a  fraction  of  a  second,  then  becoming  inky  black 
again. 

After  moving  ab-~"t  for  a  time,  Pant  doubled 


The  Girl  and  the  Tiger  121 

himself  up  and,  creeping  into  the  broad  lower 
part  of  a  dilapidated  cupboard,  closed  the  door 
behind  him. 

Ten  minutes  elapsed.  A  rat  scurried  over  the 
uneven  floor.  Another  creeping  through  a  hole 
in  the  base  of  the  cupboard,  began  rattling  a 
loose  bit  of  board  about.  Pant  kicked  at  it. 
Then  all  was  silent  again. 

Five  minutes  more  passed.  Three  rats  had 
ventured  out  upon  the  floor  when,  of  a  sudden, 
there  sounded  the  rattle  of  a  key  in  the  outer 
door.  The  rats  scurried  away.  Pant  caught  a 
quick  breath,  as  he  whispered : 

"They  return!" 

A  match  was  struck.  A  broad,  fat  face  ap- 
peared at  the  door.  The  man's  small,  beady 
eyes  peered  about  the  place  for  a  moment,  then 
he  whispered  back  over  his  shoulder: 

"All  right.    Cm'on." 

"Safe?" 

"Sure!" 

Two  other  men  followed  him.  One  was  slim, 
the  other  broad  shouldered.  Pant  almost  let 


122  The  Crimson  Flash 

fall  an  exclamation,  as  he  saw  that  the  broad- 
shouldered  one  had  a  ragged  ear. 

"Perhaps  Johnny's  right,"  was  his  mental 
comment. 

Through  a  hole  left  by  what  had  once  been 
a  lock  on  the  cupboard  door,  he  could  catch  every 
move  of  the  mysterious  three. 

Gathering  around  the  table  they  proceeded  at 
once  to  what  appeared  to  be  the  task  of  the 
night.  A  flat  tin  affair  was  placed  on  the  table. 
A  tin  cup  from  which  the  handle  of  a  brush  pro- 
truded was  set  down  close  to  the  pan.  A  roll  of 
paper  was  produced.  It  was  while  this  was 
being  rolled  backward  and  then  drawn  across 
the  smooth  edge  of  the  table  to  make  it  straight 
that  Pant  felt  something  touch  his  hand.  Barely 
checking  a  start,  he  held  himself  rigidly  motion- 
less. In  an  instant  he  realized  that  it  was  only 
a  hungry  rat.  But  in  a  minute  he  knew  that 
this  was  quite  bad  enough,  for  the  rat  began  to 
gnaw  at  his  finger. 

In  the  meantime,  in  the  room  the  man  of  the 
ragged  ear  had  taken  the  broad  brush  and  moved 


The  Girl  and  the  Tiger  123 

it  several  times  over  the  pan.  He  dipped  the 
brush  each  time  in  the  cup,  as  if  applying  a 
liquid.  The  fat  man  held  a  sheet  of  paper  as  if 
ready  to  spread  it  out  upon  the  pan. 

The  rat  persevered.  He  had  gnawed  his  way 
through  the  tough  outer  skin  of  Pant's  finger, 
and  had  touched  tender  flesh  when,  with  a  sud- 
den quick  movement,  Pant's  thumb  closed  down. 
He  was  not  quick  enough.  The  rat,  whirling 
about,  was  caught  only  by  the  tail.  With  a 
piercing,  almost  human  scream  the  rat  strug- 
gled for  freedom. 

Instantly  the  room  went  dark.  In  that  same 
instant,  a  hand  groped  for  the  door,  behind 
which  Pant  was  concealed.  Pant  had  hoped  to 
strangle  the  rat  without  a  sound.  In  this  he  had 
failed.  Just  what  he  was  in  for  now,  he  could 
not  even  guess. 


CHAPTER  IX 
THE  TIGER  SPRINGS 

In  the  dim  half  light,  as  Johnny  crouched  in 
the  sawdust  ring,  knife  in  hand,  he  saw  the  tiger 
lash  his  tail  as  he  prepared  for  a  spring.  He 
saw  the  girl  dancing  on  the  wire,  twirling  her 
parasol  as  she  danced.  His  mind  whirled.  Was 
this  all  a  dream?  Was  it  but  a  moving  picture 
flashed  upon  the  screen?  He  shook  himself. 
No,  there  were  the  colors  in  the  girl's  costume, 
the  red  that  came  and  went  in  her  cheek,  and 
there  were  the  wonderful  colors  in  the  coat  of 
that  giant  cat.  It  was  real,  and  the  cat  was  pre- 
paring for  a  spring.  Should  he  cry  out?  At- 
tract the  beast's  attention,  then  stand  for  battle  ? 
To  do  so  meant  sudden  death.  No  man  armed 
with  a  knife  could  hope  to  defeat  a  tiger. 

On  the  other  hand,  what  if  he  waited?  Could 
the  tiger  leap  ten  feet  in  air?  If  he  could,  what 

124 


The  Tiger  Springs  125 

then?  The  girl  had  nerve;  Johnny  could  see 
that.  There  was  a  strong  chance  that  the  tiger 
could  not  reach  her.  He  would  wait. 

Suddenly  into  that  brilliant  circle  of  light 
there  shot  upward  a  tawny,  gleaming  body. 
The  tiger  had  leaped  square  at  the  girl.  Johnny's 
heart  stood  still.  There  came  an  audible  gasp 
from  the  girl.  The  cruel  fangs  of  the  beast 
flashed  in  the  light.  Up,  up  he  rose,  five  feet, 
six,  seven,  eight.  Now  his  great  paws  flashed  at 
the  girl's  feet.  An  instant  of  suspense  ended 
with  a  gasp  of  relief.  The  tiger  had  missed. 

For  a  fraction  of  a  second  the  girl  teetered 
on  the  wire.  She  seemed  about  to  lose  her  bal- 
ance and  fall,  but  she  at  once  regained  her  com- 
posure, and,  with  a  smile  upon  her  lips,  such 
as  she  threw  to  admiring  spectators,  she  tripped 
again  along  the  wire. 

"Bravo!"  Johnny's  lips  formed  the  word, 
but  he  did  not  say  it. 

Again  the  tiger  crouched  for  a  spring.  The 
girl  was  gaining  self-control.  Estimating  the 
position  of  the  tiger,  she  tripped  away  from  him. 


126  The  Crimson  Flash 

Angered,  the  tiger  roared  savagely,  gave  two 
short  jumps,  then  leaped  straight  and  high. 

With  a  little  cry,  half  of  fear,  half  of  defi- 
ance, the  girl  sprang  in  air.  The  next  instant 
the  tiger's  paw  touched  the  wire.  One  breath- 
less second  the  girl  appeared  to  hover  in  air, 
then  she  dropped.  Her  toe  touched  the  vibrat- 
ing wire.  She  slipped.  She  uttered  a  low  moan. 

Just  at  that  moment  the  spot  light  blinked 
suddenly  out,  leaving  the  great  tent  in  utter 
darkness. 

For  a  few  moments  after  the  candle  was  ex- 
tinguished in  the  mysterious  room  down  by  the 
river  Pant  remained  motionless.  Then,  as  a 
groping  hand  found  the  door  to  his  hiding  place, 
he  leaped  into  spring-steel-like  action.  The  cup- 
board door  banged  open.  A  sudden  flash  of  red 
light  was  followed  by  the  dull  thud  of  a  body 
striking  the  floor.  A  second  flash  produced  the 
same  result.  A  chair  clattered  to  the  floor.  The 
street  door  swung  suddenly  open,  then  banged 
shut  again.  A  fugitive  figure  sought  cover  in 


The  Tiger  Springs  127 

the  shadows  of  a  dark  corner  of  the  building. 

"Are  you  shot?"  came  a  gruff  voice  from 
within. 

"Thought  I  was,  but  guess  I  ain't." 

"So  did  I." 

"There  wasn't  any  report." 

"A  red  flame,  and  a  biff  that  floored!" 

There  followed  sounds  of  movement.  A 
match  was  struck.  For  a  moment  a  light  flick- 
ered in  the  room,  then  three  heads  appeared  at 
the  door.  Mounting  to  the  third  step,  the  leader 
glanced  quickly  up  and  down  the  street.  Then, 
followed  by  his  two  companions,  he  darted  away. 

"Some  rotten  luck,"  grumbkd  Pant,  for  it 
was  he  who  lurked  in  the  corner. 

Without  a  light,  he  again  entered  the  room. 
When  he  came  out  a  short  time  later,  he  was 

straightening  out  a  bit  of  crumpled  paper. 
******* 

For  Johnny,  after  the  spot  light  in  the  circus 
tent  blinked  out,  an  agony  of  suspense  followed. 
The  girl  —  had  she  dropped?  The  tiger  —  was 
he  now  about  to  spring?  Without  a  light  Johnny 


128  The  Crimson  Flash 

could  do  nothing.  A  sudden  wave  of  remorse 
overcame  him.  He  blamed  himself  for  not  en- 
tering the  struggle  when  the  light  was  on. 

But  what  was  this?  Could  it  be  that  his 
straining  ear  caught  the  sing  of  the  wire,  as 
the  girl's  foot  touched  it  in  her  wild  dance  ?  He 
listened.  There  could  be  no  mistake  about  it. 
Even  in  the  darkness  she  had  regained  her  foot- 
ing, was  dancing  down  the  wire. 

But  the  tiger  could  see  in  the  dark.  She  could 
not  see  his  leaps.  And  he  would  leap  again, 
Johnny  was  sure  of  that. 

In  this  he  was  not  mistaken,  for,  with  sinking 
sensation,  he  heard  the  cat  leave  the  ground. 
There  followed  no  sound.  Breathlessly  he 
waited  till  he  felt  the  slight  shock  of  the  cat  as 
he  dropped.  Or  was  it  Gwen? 

At  this  time  of  uncertainty  a  weird  thing  hap- 
pened. Seeming  to  come  from  a  spot  in  mid 
air,  a  streak  of  crimson  light  flashed  down  at  an 
angle  toward  the  floor.  For  an  instant,  it  turned 
the  costume,  the  parasol,  the  face  of  the  girl 
crimson;  the  next,  it  swept  the  crouching  tiger 


The  Tiger  Springs  129 

with  a  flood  of  blood  red  light.  With  a  growl 
of  fear  the  beast  shrank  back.  The  light  fol- 
lowed him.  He  rose  and  leaped  away.  He 
paused.  The  light  was  again  upon  him.  With 
a  wild  snarl,  he  sprang  away  toward  the  far  end 
of  the  tent. 

As  he  lay  there  staring  open-mouthed, 
Johnny  heard  the  sputter  of  arc  lights.  In  a 
moment  the  tent  was  ablaze  with  white  lights. 
The  dynamo  had  been  started,  the  light 
turned  on. 

Johnny  sprang  to  his  feet,  then  facing  about, 
looked  for  the  girl.  The  next  instant  he  sprang 
toward  the  spot  over  which  the  wire  was  strung. 
He  was  there  in  time  to  break  her  fall.  She 
had  tottered  from  the  wire. 

She  had  not  fainted,  but  it  was  in  vain  that 
she  attempted  to  rise;  her  limbs  would  not  sup- 
port her. 

"I,  I  guess  I  lost  my  nerve,"  she  apologized, 
as  she  sank  down  upon  the  sawdust. 

"  If  you  did,  you  lost  a  lot,"  exclaimed  Johnny 
in  undisguised  enthusiasm.  "  You  were  great !  " 


130  The  Crimson  Flash 

For  the  moment  he  forgot  the  caste  of  the 
circus,  forgot  he  was  only  an  ex-groom  and  she 
the  queen  of  performers. 

"Just  sit  right  here,"  he  counseled.  "I'll  run 
and  get  you  a  glass  of  water ;  you'll  be  all  right 
in  a  jiffy.  The  tiger's  safe  enough;  keepers 
have  got  him." 

By  the  time  he  returned,  the  world  had 
righted  itself  again,  and  he  was  only  a  slave. 

"I,  I'll  be  running  along,"  he  stammered, 
"that  is,  if  you're  all  right?" 

"  But  I'm  not  all  right,"  protested  Gwen.  "  Be- 
sides, I  need  some  one  to  talk  to.  Why  should 
you  go?" 

"  You  know,"  Johnny  faltered,  "I'm  not  a  per- 
former; at  least,  not  yet." 

"Fiddle!"  she  puckered  up  her  lips.  "What 
diff  does  that  make;  you're  a  brave  boy.  You 
were  right  near  that  awful  tiger  when  I  saw 
you,  and  you  weren't  running  away.  I  believe 
you  were  there  all  the  time." 

"I  was,"  admitted  Johnny.  "I  was  watching 
you  dance  when  he  came  up." 


The  Tiger  Springs  131 

"Oh!"  She  gave  him  a  queer  look.  "And 
what  did  you  think  you  could  do  ?  " 

"  If  he  had  reached  you,  I  could  have  put  up 
a  good  scrap." 

She  looked  at  him  again.  "I  believe  you 
could,"  she  smiled.  "I  saw  you  give  that  bear 
the  knockout  the  other  day.  That  was  good, 
awful  good!  Say!  You  can  box,  can't  you?" 

"A  little." 

"Will  you  give  me  some  lessons?" 

Johnny's  heart  leaped.    Would  he? 

"Su — sure,"  he  stammered,  "any  —  any 
time." 

"All  right;  to-morrow  morning  at  nine.  What 
say?" 

"That  suits  me." 

"It's  a  go,"  she  said,  holding  out  her  hand. 
Johnny  gripped  it  warmly,  and  as  he  did  so,  he 
realized  that  there  was  nothing  soft  or  flabby 
about  that  hand. 

"You  see,"  she  half  apologized,  "I  have  to 
keep  in  trim  for  my  stunts,  and  nothing  will  do 
it  quite  like  boxing." 


132  The  Crimson  Flash 

"  Uh-huh ! "  Johnny  scarcely  heard  her.  Her 
hand  had  made  him  think  of  the  diamond  ring. 
Should  he  ask  her  about  it  now?  It  seemed 
what  his  old  professor  would  call  the  psycho- 
logical moment.  Yet  he  did  not  want  to  ask  her. 
He  was  already  enjoying  her  friendship,  knew 
he  would  enjoy  it  more  and  more  and  did  not 
wish  to  risk  losing  it.  Then  he  thought  of  Pant 
and  his  problem.  Perhaps  she  could  aid  them 
in  solving  that. 

"Say,"  she  whispered  suddenly,  "what  was 
that  blood  red  light?" 

"I,  I  don't  know,"  Johnny  replied. 

"Wasn't  it  spooky?     Came  from  nowhere!" 

"  I  don't  know  how  it  was  done,"  said  Johnny, 
"but  someone  was  behind  it — someone  who  evi- 
dently wanted  to  help  you." 

The  girl  glanced  at  him  sharply. 

"No,"  he  smiled,  "I  didn't  do  it.  I'm  not 
that  much  of  a  magician.  But  I'm  not  sure  but 
that  I  know  the  person  who  did  it." 

"Oh!"  she  gasped.  "Will  you  find  out  and 
let  me  know?" 


The  Tiger  Springs  133 

"If  I  can,"  said  Johnny,  smiling  once  more. 

"  Oh ! "  she  gasped  again.  "  I  owe  that  person 
a  lot.  The  tiger  would  have  got  me  for  sure. 
I'd  do  a  lot  for  him." 

"Would  you?"  asked  Johnny. 

"Of  course  I  would." 

"  You  may  have  a  chance  some  time." 

"How  strangely  you  talk!" 

"That's  all  I  can  tell  you  now." 

He  arose  and,  assisting  her  to  her  feet,  walked 
with  her  to  the  flap  of  the  ladies'  dressing  tent; 
then  bade  her  good-night. 

"  She's  a  real  sport ! "  he  told  himself.  "  Now 
I've  got  to  make  good  at  boxing  the  bear,  even 
if  it  is  a  rotten  job." 


CHAPTER  X 
GWEN  MEETS  A  "HAY  MAKER" 

Johnny  Thompson  did  not  relish  giving  boxing 
lessons.  Like  all  true  artists,  he  was  more  inter- 
ested in  doing  things  than  in  teaching  others 
how  to  do  them.  Especially  did  he  dislike  giv- 
ing lessons  to  women. 

Johnny  had  his  particular  ideas  about  the  pos- 
sible skill  of  lady  boxers  and  his  estimate  was 
not  flattering.  However,  he  was  willing  to 
teach  Gwen  because  he  liked  her,  thought  of  her 
as  a  good  sport,  and  hoped  to  profit  by  his  ac- 
quaintance with  her.  He  was  destined  to  find 
her  rather  a  surprise  as  a  boxer. 

Exactly  at  nine  o'clock  next  morning  he  was 
on  hand  in  the  small  sawdust  circle  at  a  remote 
corner  of  the  "big  top."  Gwen  was  only  three 
minutes  late  and  Johnny  put  that  down  as  being 
much  to  her  credit.  "Most  girls  would  have 

134 


Gwen  Meets  a  "Hay  Maker"  135 

been  fifteen  minutes  or  half  an  hour  behind 
time,"  was  his  mental  comment. 

After  a  formal  "Good  morning,"  Johnny 
helped  Gwen  on  with  her  gloves.  This  gave  him 
an  opportunity  to  look  her  over.  Naturally  her 
hands  received  his  first  attention.  He  looked 
for  rings ;  found  none,  and  then  laughed  at  him- 
self for  believing  that  any  person  would  come 
for  a  boxing  lesson  with  rings  on  her  fingers. 

Looking  her  up  and  down  from  head  to  toe, 
he  found  her  good  to  the  eye  —  even  better  than 
in  her  professional  costume.  She  was  all  of  a 
girl  now.  In  her  short  skirt,  blue  middie  and 
silk  stockings  and  with  her  mass  of  hair  drawn 
tightly  into  form  beneath  a  strong  net,  she  made 
a  picture  worth  looking  at.  Johnny  found  him- 
self catching  his  breath  sharply  as  he  drew  on 
her  gloves  and  laced  them  snugly  about  her 
wrists. 

"You  won't  strike  hard — not  at  first,  any- 
way—  will  you?"  she  breathed. 

"Not  at  all,"  Johnny  smiled,  "but  you'll 
have  to  be  careful  about  one  thing;  practice 


136  The  Crimson  Flash 

calls  for  boxing  that  is  as  near  the  real  thing 
as  possible.  I  mean  that  I'll  seem  to  be  going  to 
deal  you  a  real  knock-out  blow,  but  I'll  'pull 
the  blow/  as  they  say,  just  before  it  lands,  so  it 
will  be  a  mere  tap.  The  thing  you'll  have  to  be 
a  little  careful  about  is  running  into  those  'hay 
makers,'  otherwise  they  may  prove  to  be  the  real 
thing  in  spite  of  all  I  can  do  to  avoid  it." 

"I'll  try,"  Gwen  smiled  back.  "Are  you 
ready?"  She  tapped  him  playfully  on  the  nose. 

"  Ready ! "  Johnny  squared  away. 

From  the  start,  Gwen's  boxing  was  a  baf- 
fling mystery  to  the  boy.  She  seemed  to  fairly 
dance  on  air.  Her  foot  movements  were  mar- 
velous. Now  she  was  here;  now  there;  now  in 
another  corner  of  the  ring.  Johnny  had  been 
called  the  fastest  boy  of  the  ring,  but  Gwen  was 
faster.  For  some  time  he  did  not  reach  her 
even  with  a  light  tap. 

But  time  taught  him  new  tricks  and  brought 
back  to  his  mind  many  half-forgotten  old  ones. 
He  began  to  realize  that,  although  her  face  pro- 
tection was  perfect,  she  was  exposing  her  chest. 


Given  Meets  a  "Hay  Maker"  137 

"That's  where  her  lesson  begins,"  he  told 
himself,  and  at  once  began  tapping  her  over  the 
heart  with  ever  increasing  force  until  she  threw 
down  her  hands  with  a  sharp,  "  Oh-wee ! " 

"Time's  up,"  laughed  Johnny,  throwing  him- 
self down  upon  the  mat  and  inviting  her  to  do 
the  same. 

'You  see,"  he  explained,  when  they  had 
caught  their  breath,  "you  box  the  way  you  do 
your  tight  rope  work.  It's  great  stuff.  I  never 
saw  a  lady  boxer  your  equal." 

Gwen  gave  him  a  happy  smile. 

"But,"  he  went  on,  "you've  got  your  weak 
points,  just  as  the  rest  of  us  have.  You  play 
your  defense  too  high.  That  leaves  your  chest 
unguarded.  If  you  were  in  a  real  fight  your 
opponent  would  deal  you  a  knock-out  blow  over 
the  heart.  You'll  have  to  practice  playing  closer 
to  the  sawdust  with  both  your  hands  and  your 
feet.  It's  that  tight  rope  stuff  that  does  it.  You 
box  as  if  you  were  tiptoeing  along  the  rope  and 
holding  up  that  Japanese  parasol  to  balance 
you." 


138  The  Crimson  Flash 

Gwen  thanked  him  for  his  advice,  then,  as  all 
good  friends  occasionally  do,  they  lapsed  into 
silence. 

"Second  round,"  said  Johnny,  two  minutes 
later  as  he  pocketed  his  watch. 

To  Johnny  this  tight  rope  dancer  seemed  an 
amazingly  alert  pupil.  It  was  no  time  at  all 
before  he  found  her  guard  lowered  and  her 
hands  traveling  so  fast  that  only  now  and  again 
was  he  able  to  score  a  point.  To  his  great  sur- 
prise, he  found  himself  thoroughly  enjoying  the 
third  round.  Not  only  was  he  teaching  her  some- 
thing about  guarding  and  self-control,  but  she 
was  giving  him  pointers  in  speed  and  foot  work. 

" You're  great!"  he  breathed  at  the  end  of 
the  third  round.  "  You  really  are." 

Flushed,  highly  excited,  filled  with  a  girlish 
enthusiasm,  she  beamed  back  at  him.  The  af- 
fair was  a  huge  success ;  there  could  be  no  doubt 
of  that.  Johnny  saw  himself  safely  possessed 
of  an  entirely  agreeable  pal,  one  of  the  very 
elect,  of  the  inner  circle  of  star  performers, 
too.  He  saw  himself  frolicking  with  this  won- 


Gwen  Meets  a  "Hay  Maker"  139 

derful  pal  day  after  day.     A  fine  day-dream! 

And  just  there  something  happened,  as  often 
is  the  case  when  one's  cup  of  happiness  is  about 
to  overflow.  In  the  fourth  round  Gwen,  excited 
by  Johnny's  praise,  strove  to  out-do  herself.  Be- 
fore she  had  not  been  half  so  airy  nor  so  nimble 
and  skillful  in  eluding  her  opponent's  blows. 
Thus  challenged,  Johnny  brought  into  play  his 
every  tactic.  Maneuvers  which  had  lain  dor- 
mant in  his  brain  leaped  to  the  forefront.  It 
was  as  if  he  were  again  in  a  real  battle  in  a  real 
ring.  Like  live  things,  his  gloves  flashed.  He 
leaped  to  the  right,  then  to  the  left,  then  back- 
ward. He  darted  suddenly  forward.  He  ducked. 
He  leaped  high.  But  ever  the  elusive  Gwen 
escaped  him. 

At  last,  in  one  mad  rush  he  found  himself 
facing  her.  Her  round  chin  was  exposed.  What 
an  opportunity!  He  lifted  himself  clean  off  the 
floor;  his  right  hand  struck  out  and  up.  It 
would  have  brushed  her  chin — an  admirably 
"pulled"  blow — had  she  not  at  this  instant 
leaped  suddenly  at  him.  Whether  she  thought 


140  The  Crimson  Flash 

she  saw  an  opening  and  had  herself  resolved  to 
score,  or  had,  in  the  mad  rush,  completely  lost 
her  head,  Johnny  could  not  tell.  He  only  knew 
that  there  came  a  sickening  sound  of  impact, 
followed  by  a  dull  thud  and  Gwen  lay  crumpled, 
unconscious  at  his  feet.  His  blow  had  found 
its  mark.  The  full  force  of  it  had  been  ex- 
pended on  the  girl's  chin ! 

Heartsick,  he  struggled  to  regain  his  scattered 
senses.  The  next  instant  he  was  rushing  away 
for  water.  From  a  bucket  he  dipped  it  ice  cold, 
and  applied  it  to  her  forehead.  Then  with  a 
towel  he  began  to  fan  her. 

All  the  time  reflections  were  rushing  through 
his  troubled  brain:  "What  a  fool!  Just  when 
things  were  going  right !  All  off  now !  Mighty 
funny  how  it  happened !  All  my  fault !  Mebby 
hers,  too!  But  a  girl  —  what  a  wallop  to  give 
a  girl!  Who'd  forgive  it?  Boss'd  fire  me  if  he 
knew  it.  What  a  muss!  Go  back  to  the  bear 
if  I  get  a  chance.  Bear's  about  my  class.  What 
a  nut  a  fellow  can  make  of  himself!  I  —  why 
dum  it  anyway — " 


Given  Meets  a  "Hay  Maker"  141 

His  dismal  reflections  were  arrested  by  the 
opening  of  Gwen's  eyes.  She  sat  up  dizzily  and 
gazed  about  her  as  if  looking  upon  a  world 
unknown. 

"Where  am  I?"  she  faltered.  "Oh!"  she 
moaned,  and  held  her  head. 

Johnny's  thoughts  touched  the  bottom  of 
despair. 

But  the  next  moment  she  was  looking  at  him 
and  actually  smiling.  "I  suppo-pose,"  she  said 
uncertainly,  "that  you'd  call  —  call  that  a  'hay 
—  hay  maker'? 

Johnny  grinned  in  spite  of  himself.  "  It  was," 
he  agreed. 

"  And  I  —  I  ran  into  your  '  hay  maker.' ' 

"  Something  like  that,"  Johnny  agreed,  sitting 
down  beside  her.  "  I  hope  you  feel  better." 

She  did  not  answer,  but  sat  staring  at  the  saw- 
dust. They  remained  in  just  that  position  until 
Johnny's  watch  had  ticked  off  a  hundred  and 
twenty  seconds.  He  knew  it  was  a  hundred  and 
twenty  for  he  counted  them  all. 

"I  suppose,"  he  said,  when  he  could  endure 


142  The  Crimson  Flash 

the  silence  no  longer,  "that  that's  the  end  of 
it?" 

"I  suppose  so,"  she  agreed. 

Again  they  were  silent.  There  seemed  noth- 
ing more  to  say. 

"And  I  thought  we  would  have  some  grand 
times  together,"  said  Johnny,  at  last.  "  I  might 
have  known  though  —  " 

"Oh!  But  aren't  we?"  There  was  a  puz- 
zled look  on  her  face. 

"Why!  You  —  you  said  that  was  the  end 
of  it!" 

"  I  suppose  so  for  today.  I'm  really  too 
shaky  to  box  any  more  to-day.  But  how  about 
to-morrow  ?  " 

With  a  wild  shout  of  joy,  Johnny  leaped  to 
his  feet. 

"Then  — then— ,"  he  stammered.  "Why, 
you're  a  brick ! " 

He  extended  his  hand  and  helped  her  to  her 
feet. 

"Why?  What's  so  wonderful?"  she  smiled  at 
him.  "  I  ran  into  you  and  got  bumped.  I  don't 


Given  Meets  a  "Hay  Maker''          143 

hold  that  against  you.    Why  should  I?    Would 
another  boy  hate  you  for  it?" 

"  No.    He  might  not,  but  a  girl  —  " 

"Fiddle!  Girls  are  just  like  boys,  if  you  let 
them  be.  Shall  I  see  you  to-morrow?" 

"You  sure  will!" 

For  a  moment  Johnny  hesitated  before  tak- 
ing her  hand  for  a  farewell ;  the  question  of  the 
diamond  ring  had  flashed  through  his  mind. 
Was  this  the  time  to  ask?  He  hesitated;  then 
gave  it  up.  A  moment  before  he  had  felt  that 
he  had  lost  her.  He  would  risk  nothing  more 
this  day. 

"Good-bye  and  good  luck,"  he  murmured,  as 
she  turned  to  go  her  way. 


CHAPTER  XI 
THE  BLACK  BEAST 

"  Pant,"  said  Johnny  the  next  evening,  as  they 
sat  upon  the  beach  in  the  moonlight,  with  the 
torn,  torn,  torn  of  the  circus  drum  sounding  from 
the  distance,  "there's  one  thing  that  puzzles  me 
about  this  crimson  flash." 

"Let's  hear."  There  was  a  smile  lurking 
about  the  corners  of  Pant's  mouth. 

"That  big  yellow  cat  last  night  was  scared 
stiff,  just  frozen  in  his  tracks  by  the  crimson 
flash,"  said  Johnny.  "They  tell  me  that  all  the 
big  cats  act  that  way,  except  one." 

"Uh!"  grunted  Pant.     "The  black  panther." 

"He  leaps  right  at  it,  wants  to  eat  someone 
up  every  time  it's  flashed  on  his  cage.  How's 
that  ?  "  asked  Johnny. 

Pant  smiled,  as  he  drank  in  a  deep  breath  of 
cool,  night  air.  "  That,  Johnny,  is  a  rather  long 

144 


The  Black  Beast  145 

story,  a  story  I've  never  told.  But,  because 
you've  been  a  good  pal,  because,  though  I've 
doubtless  seemed  mighty  queer  at  times,  you've 
never  asked  a  leading  question,  I've  a  strong 
notion  to  tell  it  to  you." 

Johnny  waited  in  silence.  The  torn  torn  of  the 
drum  ceased.  By  that  he  knew  that  Gwen, 
Queen  of  the  circus,  was  just  entering  the  ring 
for  her  part.  He  had  intended  to  see  that  act 
again,  but  if  Pant  spoke — 

"I  think  I  will,"  mused  Pant.  "You  see,"  he 
went  on,  "ever  since  I  was  a  small  child  I  have 
had  a  great  interest  in  cats.  Even  before  I  could 
walk,  so  they  tell  me,  I  would  turn  up  missing, 
and  they'd  find  me  at  last  creeping  through  the 
grass  in  the  meadows,  following  an  old  tomato 
colored  cat  that  was  hunting  for  moles. 

"As  I  grew  older  I  came  to  know  that  a  cat 
could  see  in  the  dark,  and  that  he  did  most  of 
his  hunting  at  night.  These  things  interested 
me.  Night  after  night  I  would  slip  from  my 
bed,  steal  out  into  the  night  and  follow  the  cats 
in  their  nightly  wanderings.  I  guess  I  learned 


146     .  The  Crimson  Flash 

things  about  cats  that  no  one  else  knows;  some 
of  their  secrets,  I  mean.  I've  never  told  them, 
and  I'm  not  going  to  tell  them  to  you.  Knowl- 
edge is  of  very  little  use  to  people  unless  they 
go  to  the  places  where  it  can  be  applied,  and 
very  few  are  willing  to  go  all  that  way. 

"When  I  was  thrown  out  into  the  world  to 
shift  for  myself  I  still  wanted  to  know  more 
about  cats.  Little  by  little  I  came  to  know  that 
house  cats  were  but  the  pygmies  among  cats; 
that  there  were  large,  fierce,  dangerous  cats  — 
wild  cats,  mountain  lions,  tigers,  and  the  like. 
It  was  just  when  my  curiosity  about  these  big 
cats  was  at  its  height  that  I  happened  to  wander 
into  a  zoo.  There  I  found  tigers,  panthers, 
leopards  and  mountain  lions.  I  was  wild  with 
joy.  I  watched  these  big  cats  for  hours.  I 
asked  so  many  questions  of  the  attendant  that 
he  threatened  to  throw  me  out.  When  night 
came  he  did  force  me  to  go  away.  For  a  week 
I  did  nothing  but  haunt  that  zoo. 

"At  last  it  came  to  me  suddenly  one  day  that 
I  could  learn  nothing  really  worth  while  about 


The  Black  Beast  147 

these  wonderful  cats  unless  I  could  watch  them, 
as  I  had  watched  house  cats,  in  their  native 
haunts,  as  they  rested,  fed,  played  and  wandered 
about  or  stalked  their  prey.  I  asked  the  keeper 
where  their  native  homes  were.  He  showed  me 
on  a  map.  I  was  astonished.  They  were  from 
all  over  the  world,  India,  Africa,  South  Amer- 
ica, everywhere. 

"There  were  two  cats  that  had  caught  my 
eye,  the  great  tawny  beast,  the  Bengal  tiger, 
and  the  smaller  black  cat  with  the  shifting  eye, 
the  black  leopard. 

"When  I  was  told  that  both  these  came  from 
the  jungles  of  India  I  was  overjoyed.  I  would 
go  there  and  follow  them  day  after  day,  until 
I  knew  all  their  secrets. 

"  When  I  told  the  attendant  of  my  resolve,  he 
laughed  at  me;  said  I'd  be  killed  and  eaten  be- 
fore I  had  been  in  the  jungle  a  day. 

"I  took  to  thinking  about  that;  then  I  tried 
to  study  out  some  way  to  make  the  great  cats 
of  the  jungle  afraid  of  me.  I  returned  again  to 
the  zoo  and  studied  the  great  animals.  When 


148  The  Crimson  Flash 

the  keeper  was  not  looking  I  tried  many  things. 
At  last  I  found  one  thing  that  would  make  them 
afraid — all  but  one,  the  black  cat  with  the  shift- 
ing eyes;  he  was  not  afraid.  He  leaped  at  his 
bars  snarling,  but  I  said  to  myself,  'He  is  only 
one,  all  other  black  leopards  will  be  afraid.' ' 

"Of  the  crimson  flash?"  whispered  Johnny. 

Pant  gave  him  a  look  of  warning,  then 
glanced  away  at  the  lake. 

"I  was  only  a  boy  and  not  very  far  in  my 
teens  at  that,  but  I  went  to  the  jungles  of  India. 
I  don't  remember  much  how  I  went.  I  was  a 
stowaway  on  a  big  steamer,  then  in  a  smaller 
one.  I  helped  pole  long,  heavy  barges  up  an 
endless  river  where  mosses  and  grape  vines 
hung  thick  along  the  banks,  and  where  great 
slimy  beasts  rose  from  the  water  to  glare  at  us. 
I  caught  the  fever  and  lay  for  weeks  in  a  bed 
of  a  hospital  provided  for  Dutch  missionaries. 

"After  I  got  well,  I  poled  more  boats  up  the 
river  until,  at  last,  I  was  in  the  heart  of  India, 
where  there  were  few  white  men,  where  there 
were  many  naked  natives,  where  it  was  all 


The  Black  Beast  149 

jungle,  and  where  in  the  night  I  could  hear  the 
call  of  the  wild  things,  my  friends,  the  great 
cats.  Ah,  my  boy!  Then  I  was  happy.  I 
would  study.  I  would  learn  secrets.  I  would 
know  things  that  no  other  man  knew." 

Pant  paused  and,  rising,  began  to  pace  rest- 
lessly back  and  forth,  and  Johnny,  watching, 
was  reminded  of  the  great  Bengal  tiger  pacing 
the  length  of  his  cage. 

"There  was  a  mission  station,"  Pant  went  on, 
still  pacing  to  and  fro;  "a  little  mission,  with  a 
tiny  hospital  and  a  doctor.  It  was  in  a  native 
village  at  the  edge  of  a  great  jungle.  The  na- 
tives swarmed  to  it  from  many  miles  around. 
When  I  asked  the  gray  haired  doctor  why  they 
didn't  have  a  large  hospital,  he  shook  his  head 
and  answered: 

"  No  money." 

"I  had  a  little  money;  I  gave  him  that,  and 
he  let  me  stay  there  with  them.  There  were 
just  his  wife  and  one  nurse  and  the  servants.  I 
did  little  things  for  them  about  the  place  the 
time  I  was  not  sleeping  during  the  day.  At 


150  The  Crimson  Flash 

night  I  went  out  into  the  jungle  alone.  That 
first  night,  when  they  saw  me  starting  out,  they 
called  me  back;  told  me  there  were  great  cats 
lurking  in  the  jungle  that  would  kill  and  eat 
me;  begged  me  not  to  go,  but  I  said  to  them: 

"'I  have  a  charmed  life.  Nothing  can  harm 
me.  Besides,  all  cats  are  my  friends/ 

"You  see,"  Pant  sat  down  upon  the  sand, 
"you  see,  I  didn't  want  to  tell  my  secret.  Never 
tell  your  secrets,  Johnny,  at  least  not  all  of  them. 
You'll  mean  more  to  your  friends  and  trouble 
your  enemies  more  if  you  keep  them.  I  kept 
mine;  but  I  went  out  into  the  jungle  alone. 

"I  found  them,  Johnny;  I  found  the  great 
tawny  cats  with  the  dark  stripes,  the  tigers. 
They  were  not  hard  to  find,  for  I  knew  the 
secrets  of  cats,  and  all  cats  are  alike. 

"First  I  found  the  old  tiger,  then  his  mate. 
They  were  hunting  in  the  tall  grass.  Right 
away,  when  they  saw  me,  they  wanted  to  hunt 
me  and  take  me  home  to  their  cubs.  But  there 
I  had  them.  There  was  my  great  secret.  When 
I  showed  them  what  I  could  do,  they  were 


The  Black  Beast  151 

afraid.  They  walked  round  and  round  me  until, 
in  the  morning,  the  grass  was  all  trampled  round 
in  a  circle. 

"The  next  night  I  found  their  cubs  playing 
near  the  roots  of  a  fallen  tree.  They  were  three 
months  old — big  as  dogs.  The  father  had 
broken  the  forelegs  of  a  deer,  and  had  brought 
it  home  for  them  to  kill. 

"When  they  saw  me,  the  old  ones  wanted  to 
get  me  more  than  ever.  How  they  snarled! 
How  they  circled  and  lashed  their  tails!  They 
couldn't  get  me ;  I  had  them.  They  were  afraid. 
Ten  men  on  elephants,  with  rifles,  they  would 
have  attacked  with  a  rush,  but  not  me.  They 
were  afraid. 

"But,  Johnny,  they  were  wonderful  cats. 
Their  coats!  You  have  seen  tigers  in  cages. 
Bah!  They  are  nothing  to  the  great,  free  cats 
of  the  jungle.  The  yellow!  You  have  seen 
the  sky  at  sunset  sometimes  when  it  was  painted 
with  golden  fire?  It  was  like  that,  only  grander. 
And  the  dark  stripes!  They  were  like  midnight. 
The  gleam  of  their  teeth,  the  burning  red  of 


152  The  Crimson  Flash 

their  eyes,  as  they  prowled  in  the  night.  Ah! 
Johnny!  I  had  found  true  happiness.  I  only 
wanted  one  thing  to  make  me  perfectly  happy, 
and  that  was  to  have  them  play  with  me,  as  they 
played  with  their  cubs;  as  the  house  cats  played 
with  me  when  I  was  in  rompers.  That,  too, 
would  have  come,  but  —  " 

Sighing,  Pant  rose  and  began  pacing  the 
beach  again. 

"A  change  came  over  me.  I  began  to  see 
things  and  to  wonder.  At  times  I  thought  how 
sick  I  had  been  down  there  in  the  little  Dutch 
mission  hospital,  and  how  the  short,  fat  Dutch 
nurses  had  pattered  about  in  their  wooden  shoes 
to  help  make  me  well.  Then  I  saw  the  hundreds 
and  hundreds  of  poor  natives  who  came  limping 
into  our  little  station,  or  who  were  carried  in 
on  bamboo  stretchers.  It  all  set  me  thinking. 
Up  to  that  time,  I  had  thought  that  nothing 
mattered  but  cats.  I  wanted  to  know  all  about 
cats.  I  wanted,  yes,  I  do  believe  I  wanted  to 
be  like  a  cat.  Some  folks  believe  we  were  all 
animals  once  before  we  were  born  as  humans. 


The  Black  Beast  153 

An  old  native  of  the  jungle  told  me  that.  If 
that  is  true,  then  I  was  once  a  cat. 

"But  I  got  to  thinking  that  perhaps  humans 
counted  more  than  the  great  cats  in  the  jungle. 
I  didn't  want  to  think  that,  not  at  first,  but  I 
couldn't  shake  it  off.  When  I  went  into  the 
jungle  to  watch  the  cats  I  saw  in  my  mind  those 
sick  people  coming,  coming,  coming.  I  didn't 
like  it;  didn't  want  to  see  them.  There  was  yet 
the  great  black  cat.  I  must  find  him  somewhere 
in  the  jungle.  I  must  see  him. 

"One  day  I  talked  to  the  doctor  about  my 
thoughts,  and  he  told  me  that  people  counted  for 
much  more  than  big  cats.  He  said  he  needed 
medicine,  supplies,  new  houses,  everything,  and 
since  I  could  go  to  the  jungle  and  come  back 
alive,  perhaps  I  could  help  him. 

"How?"  Tasked. 

"It  was  a  terrible  thing  he  said:  'Go  into 
the  jungle  and  get  me  tiger  cubs.  Traders  will 
pay  big  money  for  them.' 

"It  was  terrible.  I  could  do  it.  There  were 
three  cubs.  I  could  get  them,  but — 


154  The  Crimson  Flash 

"'But/  I  said  to  the  doctor,  'the  big  cats,  the 
father  and  mother,  must  first  be  killed.' 

" '  Yes/  he  smiled.    And  that  was  all  he  said. 

"I  went  into  the  jungle  again  that  night  and, 
as  I  watched  the  splendor  of  the  great  cats,  I 
said,  'No,  I  will  never  do  it!  Never!  Never!' 
And  yet  I  was  going  to  do  that  very  thing.  I 
was  going  to  take  a  rifle  with  me,  and  lie  there 
in  that  wonderful  moonlight  to  wait  for  them 
to  come  back;  sooner  than  I  thought,  too. 

"  It  was  that  night,  for  the  first  time,  that  the 
old  tiger  left  his  mate  and  the  three  cubs  while 
I  watched  them  and  went  away  to  hunt  by  him- 
self. Then  I  was  glad,  for  I  always  had  wished 
to  watch  him  as  he  hunted  down  the  blue  deer, 
the  buffalo,  wild  goat  or  wild  pig.  So  I  fol- 
lowed. Creeping  after  him  through  the  moon- 
light I  lost  him  many  times,  for  his  yellow 
stripes  were  like  the  moonbeams,  and  the  dark 
ones  like  wavering  shadows.  But  I  always 
found  him  again,  as  he  rose  to  leap  along  some 
path  or  across  an  open  spot  in  the  forest. 

"At  last  I  knew  that  we  were  nearing  the 


The  Black  Beast  155 

village.  'Ah!'  I  said  to  myself,  'so  that  is  your 
game.  You  will  pick  a  calf  or  a  fat  young  pig 
for  your  dinner.  Perhaps  you  may  not  fare  as 
well  as  that/  for  I  decided  that  I  must  use  my 
charm  to  drive  him  from  the  village  if  he  went 
to  rob  there. 

"But,  before  I  had  expected  it,  he  began  to 
circle.  By  that  I  knew  he  had  scented  some 
prey.  Narrower  and  narrower  his  circle  grew. 
Greater  and  greater  became  my  curiosity,  for  I 
wondered  what  kind  of  prey  he  could  find  so 
near  the  village  and  yet  not  safe  in  its  pen. 

"Finally  I  climbed  upon  the  trunk  of  a  dead 
tree,  and  then  I  saw.  My  blood  ran  cold.  Out 
of  the  village  had  wandered  a  child,  a  little  girl 
of  four  or  five  years.  She  had  crept  from  her 
bed  while  others  were  asleep,  and  there  she  was, 
the  pale  moonlight  glistening  from  her  body, 
and  the  tiger  not  four  springs  away.  Then  it 
was  that  I  saw,  saw  clear  as  midday  how  it  was ; 
that  all  big  cats  were  men's  enemies,  and  were 
but  to  be  killed. 

"Yet,  I  could  not  kill.    I  had  not  as  much  as 


156  The  Crimson  Flash 

a  knife.  I  could  do  but  one  thing.  I  had  my 
charm.  I  must  stand  between  the  beast  and  the 
child. 

"  Three  leaps  brought  me  in  his  path.  Then  I 
turned  and  faced  him.  It  was  a  great  and  ter- 
rible moment.  My  charm;  would  it  work?  He 
was  terribly  angry.  Lashing  his  tail,  he  leaped 
to  one  side.  But  that  was  no  good.  I  had  him. 
I  was  now  beside  the  child,  who  was  not  one 
bit  afraid. 

'  That  time  the  tiger  almost  dared.  He  leaped 
once.  Two  more  leaps  remained.  He  leaped 
again.  I  could  see  the  round,  black  pupils  of  his 
eyes;  count  his  teeth;  hear  him  breathe.  Three 
times  they  relaxed.  He  did  not  dare.  My 
charm ;  it  worked.  I  had  him.  He  did  not  dare. 

"At  last  he  slunk  away  through  the  tall  grass. 
Then,  because  the  child  was  not  afraid,  because 
I  knew  it  would  be  the  last  time  I  should  ever 
watch  the  cats  and  their  cubs,  I  took  the  child 
and  followed  the  tiger  back  to  the  lair,  where  all 
night  long,  beneath  the  moon,  the  tiger  and  his 


The  Black  Beast  157 

mate  with  their  cubs  beat  a  hard,  round  path 
about  me  and  the  little  girl. 

"Just  before  sunrise  I  heard  the  distant  beat 
of  the  torn  torn,  the  bellowing  of  bull  buffaloes. 
Then  it  was  that  I  knew  that  the  natives  were 
driving  the  herd  of  buffaloes  to  the  jungle  that 
they  might  frighten  the  tigers  from  their  lair, 
and  secure  the  remains  of  the  child.  And  all 
the  time  I  had  the  child  safe  in  my  arms." 

Pant  paused  and  looked  away  over  the  glim- 
mering water.  The  torn,  torn,  torn  of  the  circus 
drum  was  sounding.  The  indistinct  noises 
wafted  on  the  breeze  might  be  the  lowing  buf- 
faloes. Johnny,  for  the  second,  fancied  him- 
self in  the  heart  of  the  jungle  with  Pant,  the 
child,  and  the  tigers. 

"The  next  night,"  Pant's  voice  had  grown 
suddenly  husky,  "I  went  to  the  jungle  again, 
and  that  morning  I  brought  in  the  pelts  of  the 
tiger  and  his  mate.  The  kittens  were  chained 
to  a  tree.  The  natives  brought  them  in  later. 
The  hospital  was  bigger  and  better  after  that. 


158  The  Crimson  Flash 

And  I,  I  was  a  hero,  a  hero  to  them  all,  but  not 
to  myself." 

"But  the  black  cat,  the  panther?"  suggested 
Johnny  after  a  moment  of  silence. 

"Oh,  yes,  that  was  later.  We  have  not  time 
for  it  now.  We  move  to-night.  We  must 
hurry.  Already  the  people  are  leaving." 

"One  thing  more  before  we  go,"  said  Johnny 
eagerly.  "Light,  Pant,  does  light  travel  in 
straight  lines?"  He  was  thinking  of  the  crim- 
son flash  that  had  leaped  apparently  from  mid- 
air in  the  tent  the  previous  evening. 

"  I  am  surprised  that  you  ask  it,"  Pant  smiled. 
"You  have  been  in  Alaska?" 

"Yes." 

"Then,  at  Cape  Prince  of  Wales  you  must 
have  seen  the  midnight  sun?" 

"Yes,  in  June." 

"If  the  sun's  rays  shone  straight,  you  must 
have  had  then  as  many  hours  of  continuous 
darkness  in  December  as  you  had  of  continuous 
daylight  in  June.  Did  you  ?  " 


The  Black  Beast  159 

"No,"  said  Johnny.  "We  had  three  or  four 
hours  of  sun  every  day,  even  in  December." 

"Then,"  said  Pant,  smiling,  "the  sun's  rays 
must  have  been  bent  that  they  might  reach  you. 
In  fact,  the  rays  of  light  never  travel  straight. 
So  long!  I'll  leave  you  now  to  think  that  over. 
See  you  at  our  next  stand.  Hope  I  can  tell  you 
then  who  has  your  diamond  ring." 

He  vanished  into  the  night,  leaving  Johnny  to 
stare  after  him  in  wonder  and  admiration. 

"Some  day,"  Johnny  said  to  himself,  "I'll 
hear  the  story  of  the  black  leopard." 


CHAPTER  XII 
JOHNNY  WINS  DOUBLE  PAY 

Johnny  had  scarcely  reached  the  cluster  of 
tents  that  loomed  large  in  the  darkness,  when 
he  was  startled  by  a  sudden  wild  burst  of  activ- 
ity. Men  and  boys  rushed  silently  here  and 
there;  lanterns  and  searchlights  flashed  from 
place  to  place.  For  a  second  he  stood  there  par- 
alyzed. What  was  it,  a  fire  or  an  approaching 
cyclone  ? 

Then  he  laughed. 

"We  move  to-night.    Down  go  the  tents." 

They  did  go  down.  Before  his  astonished 
eyes  they  disappeared  as  if  by  magic.  In  all  his 
life  he  had  never  seen  anything  that  came  near 
equaling  the  team  work  displayed  in  the  drop- 
ping of  the  big  top  and  the  loading  of  the  circus. 

In  a  marvelously  short  time  they  were  on 
their  way.  Johnny,  because  of  his  prospects  of 

160 


Johnny  Wins  Double  Pay  161 

becoming  a  regular  performer,  had  been  as- 
signed a  berth  in  a  sleeping  car.  Pant,  being 
merely  a  hanger-on,  slept  as  he  had  on  many 
another  night,  beneath  the  stars,  with  only  a 
bale  of  canvas  for  covering. 

Johnny  spent  a  half  hour  in  thought  before 
the  even  click,  click  of  the  wheels  lulled  him  to 
sleep.  They  were  on  their  way,  and  he  was 
glad.  To-morrow  he  would  have  his  try-out. 
To-morrow,  too,  he  would  give  Gwen  her  second 
lesson  in  boxing.  Should  he  ask  her  about  the 
ring?  To-morrow  they  would  be  in  one  of  those 
small  cities  in  which  Pant  had  said  the  counter- 
feiters would  reap  their  richest  harvest.  When 
would  Pant  find  his  man?  Would  he,  Johnny, 
have  a  part  in  it  ?  He  must  not  fail  to  fulfill  his 
promise  to  Pant;  to  get  acquainted  with  the 
steam  kettle  cook  and  the  midget  clown. 

The  next  morning  Johnny  kept  his  boxing 
appointment  with  Gwen.  It  was  after  a  half 
hour  of  strenuous  work,  while  they  were  resting 
on  a  mat,  that  she  turned  to  him  suddenly  and 
said,  in  a  low  voice: 


162  The  Crimson  Flask 

"A  strange  thing  happened  last  night." 

"What  was  that?" 

"  I  was  awakened  from  my  sleep.  I  had  been 
dreaming  of  a  fire,  and  I  would  have  sworn  that 
it  was  a  flash  of  red  light  that  awakened  me." 

"That's  strange."  Johnny's  tone  told  noth- 
ing. 

"What  is  stranger  still,  two  other  girls  were 
awakened  in  the  same  manner." 

"You  had  upper  berths?" 

"Yes." 

"There  were  glass  ventilator  windows  above 
you?" 

"Yes." 

"  Probably  the  light  from  a  switch  tower  shin- 
ing in." 

"  It  was  too  bright  for  that.  It  was  so  bright 
it  was  crimson.  It  was  like  —  it  was  like  the 
crimson  flash  that  fell  on  the  tiger  that  other 
night!" 

"That  was  strange,"  Johnny  smiled,  but  his 
smile  told  nothing. 

He  was  not  surprised  when,  as  he  met  Pant  a 


Johnny  Wins  Double  Pay  163 

half  hour  later,  the  strange  fellow  said  to  him 
in  a  matter-of-fact  tone: 

"It's  the  slim  girl,  the  one  that  rides  bare- 
back, Millie,  what  is  it  they  call  her  ?  " 

"Millie  Gonzales." 

"  She's  the  one.     She's  got  your  ring." 

"I  thought  you  might  know,"  Johnny  said 
quietly. 

Pant  shot  him  a  quick  glance.  "Somebody 
been  talking?" 

"Not  so  you'd  need  be  alarmed.  But,  say, 
now  I  know  she's  got  it,  how  am  I  to  get  it  from 
her?" 

"That's  up  to  you,"  retorted  Pant. 

"It's  strange,"  said  Johnny  a  little  later;  "last 
night  I  dreamed  that  the  circus  train  was 
wrecked,  all  shot  to  smithereens!  And  the  ani- 
mals—  they  were  having  the  time  of  their  lives, 
fighting  each  other  and  eating  folks  up." 

"  If  that  ever  happens,"  Pant  gripped  his  arm 
hard,  "if  it  ever  does,  you  get  that  big  black 
cat!  Get  the  black  cat!  See?  He's  a  bad  one; 
a  man-eater.  Got  a  record.  A  bad  one.  See  ?  " 


164  The  Crimson  Flash 

Johnny  nodded,  and  thought  again  of  the  story 
Pant  was  to  tell  him  of  that  same  black  cat  and 
the  jungles  of  India.  But  there  was  no  time  for 
it  now;  the  show  would  soon  begin,  and  then 
would  come  the  great  event,  his  try-out. 

It  came.  All  too  soon  he  found  himself 
marching  down  the  sawdust  trail.  Dressed  in 
his  tightly  fitting  green  suit,  and  closely  followed 
by  the  bear,  he  felt  foolish  enough.  He  was  a 
trifle  awed  by  the  immense  throng,  too.  He  had 
been  in  many  a  boxing  match,  but  never  one 
like  this.  In  those  other  matches  he  had  had 
men  for  opponents,  and  mostly  men  as  specta- 
tors. Here  it  was  far  different. 

Anxious  questions  forced  their  way  into  his 
consciousness.  How  was  the  boxing  bout  going? 
Would  he  be  able  to  manage  the  bear,  or  would 
the  animal,  goaded  on  by  the  shouts  of  the 
crowd,  repeat  the  performance  of  that  other  day, 
when  he  had  run  the  Italian  out  of  the  tent? 

Cold  perspiration  stood  out  on  Johnny's  fore- 
head, yet  he  did  not  falter.  Bracing  himself  for 
his  ordeal,  he  bowed  low  to  the  audience,  then 


Johnny  Wins  Double  Pay  165 

turned  to  put  the  bear  through  his  preliminary 
antics.  All  went  well ;  still,  through  it  all,  John- 
ny's eyes  strayed  now  and  then  to  the  boxing 
gloves.  So  real  was  his  fear  of  the  outcome  of 
the  match,  that  at  times  it  seemed  to  him  the 
gloves  were  alive  and  ready  to  leap  from  the 
floor  into  his  face. 

Yet,  when  the  time  came,  the  thing  seemed  as 
simple  as  child's  play.  The  bear  performed  his 
part  perfectly.  Johnny  even  risked  a  little  extra 
exhibition  by  entering  into  a  clinch  with  the 
bear  and  cleverly  extricating  himself.  The  great 
test  came,  however,  when  the  bear,  appearing  to 
grow  angry,  leaped  squarely  at  him.  Three 
times  the  great  beast  did  this,  then  with  a  sud- 
den cry  of  seeming  terror,  Johnny  darted  from 
the  ring  and,  closely  followed  by  the  bear,  raced 
away  before  the  packed  throng  of  amazed  and 
delighted  spectators.  When  the  bear  paused, 
threw  his  gloves  and  turned  to  leer  at  the  audi- 
ence, Johnny  knew  that  he  had  not  only  made 
good,  but  made  good  big.  He  had  won  his 
double  pay. 


166  The  Crimson  Flash 

He  was  just  rounding  the  outer  entrance,  with 
the  applause  of  the  crowd  dying  away,  when  a 
small,  shrill  voice  squeaked  up  to  him: 

"You  did  fine.    You're  all  right." 

Glancing  down,  Johnny  had  no  difficulty  in 
recognizing  Tom  Stick,  the  midget  clown.  He 
cut  a  comical  figure  as  he  stood  there.  A  mere 
child  in  size,  he  was  dressed  in  an  African  hunt- 
ing suit  and  carried  a  shiny  air  rifle.  Not  far 
away,  a  gigantic  elephant  stood  complacently 
stuffing  hay  into  his  mouth. 

Johnny  looked  first  at  the  midget,  then  at  the 
elephant. 

"We  go  on  next,"  squeaked  the  little  fellow, 
"Jo- Jo,  that's  the  elephant,  and  myself.  I  play 
I'm  hunting  wild  elephants.  See?  Shoot  him. 
See?  Shoot  him  with  the  air  gun  all  around  the 
tent.  Real  bullets,  too!  He  doesn't  mind. 
Hide's  tough.  We  always  get  a  laugh;  Jo- Jo 
and  I  do.  Want  to  know  how  we  came  to  be 
friends,  Jo- Jo  and  me?" 

Johnny  nodded. 

"Well,  you  see,  Jo- Jo  was  a  French  elephant. 


Johnny  Wins  Double  Pay  167 

They  didn't  need  him  during  the  war,  so  they 
sent  him  over  to  America,  and  sold  him  here. 
Well,  Jo- Jo  knew  French  all  right,  but  he  didn't 
understand  a  word  of  English.  He  was  sup- 
posed to  be  one  of  the  smartest  elephants  in  the 
world  over  in  France,  but  over  here  he  was  so 
stupid  they  actually  had  to  push  him  off  the  cars 
when  they  unloaded  him.  Just  plumb  stupid. 
See?  Got  so  they  wished  they  didn't  have  him 
at  all. 

"Well,  you  know,  I  used  to  show  in  France 
once  myself,  so  I  knew  a  little  French,  and  one 
day,  just  for  fun,  I  said  to  Jo- Jo: 

"  Bon  jour,  Jo- Jo.    Comment  alle  vous !  " 

"Well,  sir,  that  elephant  nearly  wiggled  his 
old  palm  leaf  ears  off  out  of  pure  joy.  I  knew 
right  away  what  made  it;  it  was  hearin'  some- 
one speak  in  his  own  language,  so  I  just  went 
right  on  spielin'  French  to  him,  and  he  kept  on 
gettin'  happier  and  happier  until  at  last  I  had  to 
stop  for  fear  he'd  break  a  blood  vessel  laughin'. 

"When  the  Boss  knew  about  it,  he  gave  Jo- Jo 
to  me,  and  we've  been  mates  ever  since. 


168  The  Crimson  Flash 

"We've  got  to  be  movin'  up.  Good-by,  Mr. 
Bear  Boxer.  See  you  some  other  time." 

Johnny  watched  the  dwarf,  as  he  walked  be- 
hind the  elephant  and,  turning  a  corner,  disap- 
peared from  sight. 

"So  that's  one  of  the  fellows  Pant  suspects 
of  being  the  forger,  Black  McCree?  Not  the 
man,  I'd  say,"  he  muttered.  "And  yet,  you 
never  can  tell." 

It  was  the  next  morning,  while  he  was  pre- 
paring for  his  daily  bout  with  Gwen,  that  Johnny 
received  a  shock  of  surprise  which  he  did  not 
soon  forget. 

A  unique  plan  for  creating  a  new  laugh  had 
occurred  to  him.  He  was  telling  it  to  Gwen. 

"They  don't  have  the  clown  assist  you  in 
your  turn,  do  they?"  He  smiled,  as  he  laced 
her  right  glove. 

"  No.  How  could  they  ?  I  never  saw  a  clown 
walk  the  tight  wire." 

"Wouldn't  need  to;  just  pretend  to."  He 
stooped  to  pick  up  her  left  glove. 

"How?" 


Johnny  Wins  Double  Pay  169 

"Well,  you  see,  they  might  have  two  or  three 
small  balloons  just  large  enough  to  lift  him  off 
the  ground.  They  could  have  small  ropes  at- 
tached to  each  of  these.  The  attendants — the 
—  the—" 

Johnny's  eyes  had  seen  something  which  made 
him  stutter.  On  the  plump  third  finger  of 
Gwen's  left  hand  reposed  the  ring,  the  diamond 
ring,  which  had  been  the  means  of  making  him  a 
circus  performer. 

"'I  — I'll  take  it  off  for  you."  He  drew  the 
ring  from  her  finger. 

"Thanks,"  she  smiled  at  him.  "Awfully 
stupid  of  me  to  wear  it.  There's  a  handkerchief 
in  the  right  hand  pocket  of  my  blouse.  Just 
wrap  it  in  that,  and  put  it  in  my  pocket,  please." 

For  one  brief  second  Johnny  hesitated.  Was 
this  the  moment  of  moments?  The  ring  which 
would  clear  his  good  name  was  within  his  grasp. 
Should  he  say,  "Gwen,  this  belongs  to  a  friend 
of  mine,  not  to  you ;  I  must  take  it  to  her  "  ? 

For  an  instant  he  looked  into  Gwen's  frank 
blue  eyes,  then,  without  a  word,  he  drew  the 


170  The  Crimson  Flash 

handkerchief  from  her  pocket,  wrapped  the  ring 
carefully  up,  then  thrust  it  deep  down  in  the 
pocket  of  her  blouse. 

"As  I  was  about  to  say,"  he  continued  with 
forced  composure,  "they  could  hold  the  bal- 
loons steady,  while  the  clown  tripped  lightly 
along  the  wire.  Perhaps  he  might  even  attempt 
a  clog.  When  he  was  in  the  midst  of  the  clog, 
the  attendants  could  suddenly  lose  control  of  the 
balloons,  letting  the  clown  go  up  to  the  top  of 
the  tent.  He  could  then  climb  to  earth  head  first 
by  doing  a  hand-over-hand  on  a  rope  fastened 
to  a  peg  in  the  ground.  Don't  you  think  that 
would  bring  a  laugh  ?  " 

Gwen's  brow  was  wrinkled  in  thought  for  a 
moment. 

"Yes,  I  think  it  would,"  she  said  suddenly. 
"  I  think  it  would  be  a  berry !  How'd  you  like  to 
be  the  clown  ?  " 

"I  wasn't  in  aviation  in  the  Army,"  smiled 
Johnny. 

"  No,  but  really,  would  you  ?  " 

"Why!     Why!     Yes,  I  might.     It  might  be 


Johnny  Wins  Double  Pay  171 

better  than  boxing  the  bear,  and  since  I've  got  to 
stick  around,  I  might  as  well  be  a  clown  as  any- 
thing." 

"Stick  around?"  she  asked.  "Why  do  you 
have  to  stick  around  ?  " 

For  an  instant  the  words  were  on  the  tip  of 
Johnny's  tongue  which  would  have  told  her  the 
whole  truth.  But  his  lips  would  not  frame  the 
sentence. 

"Why,  I  —  I,"  he  stammered;  "just  my  na- 
ture, I  guess.  Always  did  like  the  circus." 

Johnny  was  not  a  great  success  as  a  boxer 
that  morning.  He  was  thinking  of  the  diamond 
ring,  and  wondering  why  he  had  not  demanded 
the  right  to  keep  it,  once  he  had  it  in  his  grasp; 
wondering,  too,  how  it  happened  that  Millie  had 
it  one  day,  and  Gwen  another.  "Queer  mix- 
up,"  was  his  mental  comment. 

Late  that  night,  after  the  show  was  over, 
when  the  lights  were  dim,  Johnny  wandered  into 
the  animal  tent.  He  was  just  passing  the  cage 
of  the  black  leopard  when  a  low  hiss  halted  him. 
Then  he  felt  a  grip  on  his  arm.  It  was  Pant. 


172  The  Crimson  Flash 

"  Sit  down  here  in  the  dark,  Johnny,"  he  whis- 
pered. "I'll  tell  you  the  story  of  that  black 
beast.  I  can  tell  it  better  with  his  wicked  red 
eyes  burning  holes  at  me  through  the  dark,  just 
as  they  did  once  before,  and  him  a  free  black 
cat!" 

Johnny  started  as  he  stared  at  the  cage  where, 
on  a  narrow  wooden  shelf,  the  leopard  must  be 
reposing.  All  he  could  see  was  a  pair  of  red 
balls  of  fire,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  in  all  his 
life  he  had  never  seen  anything  so  full  of  hate 
as  was  the  red  gleam  that  seemed  fairly  to  shoot 
out  from  them. 


CHAPTER  XIII 
PANT'S  STORY  OF  THE  BLACK  CAT 

"Life's  like  this,"  Pant  gripped  Johnny's  arm, 
as  the  two  red  balls  in  the  back  of  the  dark  cage 
shifted  from  side  to  side;  "life's  just  like  this: 
When  once  you've  done  a  thing,  you  want  to  do 
it  again.  That's  why  we  have  to  watch  our 
habits,  if  we  want  our  lives  to  count  for  some- 
thing. Lots  of  fellows  don't  watch  them.  I  told 
you  about  killing  the  old  tiger  and  his  mate,  and 
bringing  in  the  cubs  to  the  doctor,  so  he  could 
sell  them  to  the  traders  and  buy  supplies  for  his 
hospital.  Well,  once  I  had  done  that,  I  wanted 
to  do  it  again.  I  guess  there  was  something  of 
my  old  desire  to  study  cats  in  me  yet,  for  I  was 
overjoyed  when  I  heard  wild  stories  about  a 
giant  black  leopard  that  haunted  the  trail  far  up 
the  river.  You  see,  the  mountain  streams  were 
drying  up,  and  the  big  cats  were  being  driven 

173 


174  The  Crimson  Flash 

out  of  the  mountain  forests  to  the  river  jungles. 

"The  stories  they  told  about  that  big  black 
cat  made  a  fellow's  blood  run  cold.  He  was  big 
as  a  tiger.  He  was  a  fierce  man-eater.  His 
fangs  were  twice  the  size  of  a  tiger's,  and  each 
one  like  a  knife  blade.  He  had  been  seen  to 
seize  a  full  grown  man,  and  before  the  man's 
companions  could  fire  upon  him,  to  leap  to  the 
bough  of  a  tree,  ten  feet  from  the  ground,  the 
man  in  his  jaws,  too.  The  others  had  fled  in 
terror.  They  never  knew  what  terrible  fate  had 
overtaken  their  companion  until  a  few  days  later 
a  second  party  passing  that  way  had  found  his 
bones  strewn  beneath  that  tree. 

"Of  course  I  laughed  at  their  stories.  A 
black  cat  do  a  thing  like  that?  Why,  the  one 
in  the  zoo  back  home  was  not  three  times  the 
size  of  a  house  cat,  and  he,  the  keeper  had  told 
me,  was  eight  years  old. 

"  I  did  not  believe  their  stories,  but  the  natives 
believed  them,  and  would  not  stir  up  the  river 
road;  and  none  would  come  down  it,  either;  so 
those  who  were  sick  could  not  come  to  the  hos- 


Pant' s  Story  of  the  Black  Cat          175 

pital  I  had  helped  to  make  better.  This  made 
me  angry. 

"'I  will  go  and  kill  that  black  cat/  I  said  to 
the  doctor.  '  I  will  have  his  skin  for  a  foot  mat ! ' 

"He  smiled  in  a  friendly  way,  and  bade  me 
not  be  rash.  The  black  leopard,  he  told  me,  was 
much  more  to  be  feared  than  the  tiger.  Unlike 
the  tiger,  he  killed  for  the  fun  of  killing.  He 
climbed  trees,  and  there  on  the  dark  trunk,  seem- 
ing but  a  part  of  the  tree  itself,  he  waited  for 
his  prey.  In  the  gloom  of  the  forest,  he  dropped 
without  a  sound,  and  his  attack  was  most  terri- 
ble. He  was  truly  large,  too,  six  feet  in  length 
from  tip  of  nose  to  base  of  tail. 

"  I  did  not  believe  the  doctor.  Had  I  not  seen 
a  full  grown  black  leopard  in  the  zoo?  Was  he 
not  an  insignificant  fellow?  And  yet,  I  was  a 
little  afraid,  for  I  remembered  that  the  black  cat 
in  the  zoo  had  not  been  afraid,  when  all  the 
other  great  cats  cringed  in  dark  corners  of  their 
cages.  I  was  a  little  afraid,  but  I  would  not 
admit  it. 

"'Just  because  you  have  told  me  he  is  ter- 


176  The  Crimson  Flash 

rible,'  I  said,  '  I  will  take  along  a  strong  cage.  I 
will  bring  him  to  you  alive.  We  will  sell  him  to 
the  traders,  and  buy  more  beds  for  our  hospital/ 

"Then  the  doctor  begged  me  not  to  be  fool- 
hardy. But  I  would  not  listen.  With  four  na- 
tives to  carry  the  cage,  with  a  rifle  in  my  hand, 
and  a  big  knife  at  my  belt,  I  went — went  far  up 
the  river  trail.  When  the  natives  would  go  no 
farther,  I  called  them  dirty  cowards,  and  put- 
ting my  rifle  inside  the  cage,  dragged  the  cage 
after  me  until  I  had  come  to  a  place  where,  in 
a  deep  forest,  at  the  bend  of  the  river,  the  black 
cat  was  said  to  make  his  stand. 

"  I  was  frightened  a  little,  Johnny,  when  I  saw 
the  bleached  bones  of  a  man  lying  beneath  a 
great  tree  where  mosses  and  vines  hung  thick, 
but  I  reassured  myself  by  saying  the  man  had 
died  there  alone,  and  the  jackals  had  picked  his 
bones. 

'"  That's  the  origin  of  the  wild  story/  I  told 
myself.  '  Like  as  not  there  is  no  black  cat  at  all, 
and  I  shall  go  home  disappointed/ 

"But  I  didn't,  Johnny,  I  didn't." 


177 

Johnny  could  feel  Pant's  hand  grip  his  arm 
hard,  as  the  black  creature  in  the  cage  stirred 
and  gave  forth  a  sort  of  hissing  yawn. 

'You  were  never  in  the  jungle  at  night?" 
Pant's  tense,  vibrant  whisper  told  more  plainly 
than  words  that  he  was  living  over  again  those 
hours  in  the  jungle  alone. 

"No,"  breathed  Johnny. 

"  It's  wonderful,  and  terrible.  The  sun  sinks 
from  sight.  Darkness  comes  and  then  out  shines 
the  moon.  And  the  moonlight!  Nowhere  else 
is  it  like  it  is  in  the  jungle.  It  creeps  down 
among  the  masses  of  leaves,  transforming 
swinging,  swaying  limbs  into  gigantic,  twisting 
serpents,  ready  at  any  moment  to  swing  down 
upon  you.  It  turns  every  shadow-dotted  tree 
trunk  into  a  beast  ready  to  leap  at  your  throat. 
It's  weird,  fascinating,  terrible.  Down  at  the 
river  some  beast  plunges  into  the  water.  You 
hear  the  splash,  then  the  swish,  swish  of  his 
strokes.  He  is  coming  to  your  bank,  you  are 
sure.  You  are  afraid.  Who  would  not  be? 

"  But  me,  I  sat  by  my  cage,  with  the  rifle  over 


178  The  Crimson  Flash 

one  knee  and  watched.  One  hour,  two  hours, 
three  hours  I  watched,  until  at  last  all  the  twist- 
ing branches,  the  spotted  tree  trunks  were  fa- 
miliar to  me. 

"And  then,  then  he  came ;  the  black  beast,  the 
great  black  cat,  he  came." 

Pant  paused.  There  came  a  hiss  from  the 
cage,  as  if  the  black  cat,  too,  was  living  those 
hours  over  again. 

"  I  saw  him,  Johnny,  I  saw  him.  I  caught  the 
wicked  gleam  of  his  two  red  eyes."  Pant  gripped 
Johnny's  arm  until  it  hurt.  "  He  was  not  thirty 
feet  from  me.  Flattened  against  a  broad  tree 
trunk,  he  was  glaring  at  me  out  of  the  dark. 
How  he  came  so  close  without  my  seeing  him,  I 
cannot  tell.  He  was  a  devil.  Perhaps  he  had 
been  there  all  that  time.  Who  knows? 

"Anyway,  there  he  was.  I  cast  my  charm 
upon  him.  And  I  had  him,  Johnny,  I  had  him. 
With  my  rifle  I  could  have  shot  him  on  the 
instant.  But  he  had  me,  too.  He  was  so  won- 
derful. I  have  told  you  about  the  wonder  of  the 
tiger's  coat.  It  is  nothing  to  the  coat  of  a  black 


Pant's  Story  of  the  Black  Cat  179 

leopard  in  the  jungle.  You  have  seen  him.  You 
know  how  immense  he  is;  seven  feet  from  tip 
of  nose  to  base  of  tail.  You  have  seen  him  in 
his  cage,  but  will  never  see  him  as  I  saw  him 
that  night,  a  free  beast  in  his  own  wilderness, 
and  I  a  stranger,  an  intruder. 

"  But  I  thought  I  had  him.  I  wanted  to  study 
him ;  to  learn  his  secrets.  I  planned  how  I  would 
follow  him  day  after  day,  and  learn  all  his 
secrets.  I  was  mad,  stark  mad." 

Pant  paused  again  as  if  for  breath.  The  black 
beast  moved  nearer  on  his  shelf  within  the  cage. 
The  thrashing  of  his  tail  was  like  the  dull  beat 
of  a  drum. 

"Just  when  I  was  thinking  all  this,"  Pant  rose 
upon  his  knees  in  his  excitement,  "just  when  I 
thought  I  had  him,  he  gave  one  piercing  scream 
and  leaped.  My  man,  what  a  leap!  He  struck 
me  all  unprepared;  struck  me  with  fangs  and 
claws  tearing  at  my  flesh.  Yet  my  right  hand 
was  free.  It  was  a  tense,  agonizing  second.  In 
some  way  I  got  out  my  knife  and  slashed  away 
with  it.  The  next  instant  I  lost  consciousness." 


180  The  Crimson  Flash 

Pant  paused  again.  Once  more  the  leopard 
moved  his  length  along  the  cage. 

"  But,  Johnny,  here's  the  strangest  part  of  all. 
I  cannot  explain  it;  only  know  it's  true.  They 
say  that  sometimes,  in  moments  of  great  shock, 
men  lose  their  personality  and  become  another 
person;  that  when  they  come  back  to  themselves 
they  have  done  things  they  know  nothing  of, 
yet  others  have  seen  them  do.  It  may  have  been 
like  that  with  me.  And  then,  a  great  teacher  in 
the  heart  of  India  once  told  me  that  there  was  a 
great  spirit  of  the  forest  who  looked  after  brave 
hunters,  and  did  things  for  them  in  time  of 
great  danger  which  they  could  not  do  for  them- 
selves. It  may  have  been  that,  too.  Whatever 
way  it  may  have  been,  it  was  strange ;  so  strange 
that  you  would  not  believe  me  were  I  not  your 
friend  who  always  told  you  the  truth. 

"Listen,  Johnny!  When  I  came  to  myself  I 
was  weak,  terribly  weak  from  loss  of  blood;  but 
the  cat,  the  big  black  cat,  he  was  raging  in  the 
cage,  and  the  door  was  fastened  tight." 

Pant  paused.    The  animal  tent  was  still.  Sud- 


Pant's  Story  of  the  Black  Cat  181 

denly  a  crimson  flash  gleamed.  For  an  instant 
it  turned  the  black  cat  blood  red.  The  next  mo- 
ment, with  a  wild  snarl,  the  beast  flattened  him- 
self against  the  bars  of  his  cage. 

A  keeper  sprang  out  of  the  darkness. 

"What's  that?"  he  demanded. 

"What's  what?"  drawled  Pant. 

"  I  thought  I  saw  a  flash." 

"He  evidently  thought  something  of  the 
sort,"  Pant  replied,  poking  his  thumb  at  the 
black  cat. 

"Well,  you  guys  better  move  on.  This  ain't 
no  place  for  spinnin'  yarns." 

"That's  all  right,"  drawled  Pant,  "but  let  me 
tell  you,  friend ;  if  anything  ever  happens  to  this 
circus,  a  fire,  a  cyclone,  a  train  wreck,  or  any- 
thing like  that,  you  get  that  cat.  Get  that  black 
cat!" 

"What  d'you  know  about  him?" 

"  Plenty  that  I  don't  tell  to  strangers." 

Pant  lifted  the  wall  of  the  tent  and  stepped 
out  into  the  moonlight,  followed  by  Johnny. 

"You     didn't     finish,"     suggested     Johnny. 


182  The  Crimson  Flash 

"There's  not  much  more  to  tell.  You  have  to 
hand  it  to  that  doctor,  though.  When  I  didn't 
come  back  in  the  morning,  he  tried  to  organize  a 
party  to  search  for  me.  No  one  would  go. 
They  were  scared  cold  by  the  black  cat.  So  he 
came  alone.  He  found  me  there,  too  weak  to 
move,  and  he  carried  me  all  the  way  back  and 
put  me  in  a  bed  I'd  helped  him  to  buy. 

"The  natives  went  for  the  black  cat  and 
brought  him  back  to  the  village  in  triumph. 

"When  I  was  better  a  trader  came  to  me  and 
offered  me  the  price  of  a  tiger's  cub  for  the 
black  cat.  I  laughed  in  his  face,  and  told  him 
I'd  take  the  cat  to  the  States  myself.  That's 
what  I  did.  I  got  five  thousand  dollars  for  him, 
and  sent  it  all  back  to  the  doctor  so  he  could 
buy  beds,  and  absorbent  cotton,  and  medicine 
for  his  hospital." 

"That  was  good  of  you,"  said  Johnny. 

"Who's  good?"  demanded  Pant.  "Didn't  he 
teach  me  sense  when  I  didn't  know  anything  but 
cats?  Didn't  he  carry  me  out  of  the  jungle  on 


Pant's  Story  of  the  Black  Cat  183 

his  back  when  no  one  else  dared  to  go  in?" 

For  a  time  they  were  silent.  Then,  gripping 
Johnny's  arm,  Pant  whispered:  "But,  Johnny, 
we're  after  worse  cats  than  the  black  one. 
We're  after  human  tigers.  Tigers  that  destroy 
man's  faith  in  man;  that  make  life  little  worth 
the  living.  And,  Johnny,  we're  on  their  trail, 
close  on  their  trail.  Perhaps  to-morrow,  perhaps 
the  day  after,  you  shall  see  —  well,  you  shall  see 
what  you  shall  see." 


CHAPTER  XIV 
IN  TOM  STICK'S  HOUSE 

That  same  night,  by  the  dull  glow  of  a  half 
burned  out  camp  fire  on  the  bank  of  a  river, 
Pant  told  Johnny  of  his  plans  as  a  Secret  Serv- 
ice man  on  a  big  case,  and  how  they  had  worked 
out  thus  far. 

"You  remember  the  crimson  flash  in  the  ani- 
mal tent,  and  how  it  frightened  a  lot  of  the  col- 
ored boys  into  jumping  their  jobs?"  he  chuckled. 
"  Well,  that  helped  me,  helped  me  a  lot ;  for  you 
see  some  of  the  boys  that  quit  were  working  for 
this  bunch  of  counterfeiters  that  has  Black 
McCree  as  its  head.  Some  of  the  boys  that  were 
hired  were  already  getting  pay  from  Uncle  Sam 
for  helping  me.  Some  of  them  now  are  get- 
ting triple  pay,  once  from  the  circus,  once  from 
me  and  once  from  the  counterfeiters.  See  how 
it  works?" 

184 


In  Tom  Stick's  House  185 

Pant  chuckled  again. 

"These  boys  with  the  three  pay  checks  have 
helped  me  a  lot,  but  not  enough.  They  can't  get 
back  far  enough.  They  know  only  the  men  who 
pass  the  bonds  on  to  them,  and  those  men  are 
just  helpers  like  themselves.  They  pass  the 
goods  on,  but  the  real  man  is  still  back  in  the 
shadows;  too  far  back  for  me  to  see  him.  He's 
the  man  I  want;  the  man  and  his  outfit;  and  let 
me  tell  you,  Johnny,  that's  some  outfit.  There's 
never  been  anything  like  it  before.  It's  a  dan- 
ger. Where  and  when  they  operate  is  more  than 
I  know.  They  could  hardly  do  it  in  one  of  the 
tents.  They  might  do  it  in  one  of  the  cars, 
and  it  might  be  Tom,  the  midget  clown,  doing  it 
in  his  house  on  wheels." 

"I've  talked  with  him,"  said  Johnny  quickly. 
"  I  don't  believe  he's  in  on  it." 

"Don't  be  too  sure.  Take  no  chances.  If 
he's  especially  friendly,  that  may  mean  that  he 
is  onto  the  fact  that  you're  working  with  me  and 
that  I'm  after  them.  A  bunch  like  that  would 
stab  you  in  the  back  in  a  second." 


186  The  Crimson  Flash 

For  a  few  minutes  there  was  silence,  then 
Pant  continued:  "We  are  making  some  prog- 
ress. We  know  about  how  much  of  the  *  queer  ' 
they  are  peddling  in  these  towns,  and  take  my 
word,  it's  a  plenty.  They  are  planting  it  thick. 
WeVe  got  to  get  'em,  and  get  'em  quick.  Have 
you  talked  with  Andy  McQueen,  the  steam  ket- 
tle cook,  yet  ?  " 

"No,  not  yet." 

"Do  it  to-morrow.  He  may  be  important. 
And  Johnny,"  Pant  leaned  forward  with  an 
impressive  gesture,  "Johnny,  watch  your  step. 
You're  in  danger  every  moment.  They  may 
know  you're  with  me;  probably  do,  and  if  they 
do,  they'll  get  you  if  they  can.  That's  all.  Good- 
night." 

Rising,  he  stretched  himself  like  a  cat,  then 
went  slouching  away  into  the  darkness. 

For  a  long  time  Johnny  lay  there  on  the  sand 
dreamily  gazing  into  the  fire.  It  was,  indeed,  a 
tangled  web  of  mystery  the  unraveling  of 
which  he  had  let  himself  in  for,  and  one  which, 
as  Pant  had  suggested,  might  at  any  moment 


In  Tom  Stick's  House  187 

suddenly  break  and  let  him  down  with  an  awful 
fall. 

There  was  the  ring.  Gwen  had  it  that  morn- 
ing; Millie  had  it  two  days  before;  perhaps 
Mitzi  had  it  at  this  very  moment.  He  was  still 
surprised  at  himself  because  of  his  action  of 
that  morning.  Well,  he  must  have  that  ring. 
This,  if  for  no  other  reason,  must  hold  him  to  his 
surprising  circus  career.  He  wondered  if  Gwen 
were  serious  about  the  clown  stunt  and,  if  so, 
whether  she  would  soon  have  it  arranged.  He 
thought  again  of  Pant's  problem,  and  wondered 
for  the  hundredth  time  if  he  should  have  any 
part  in  its  solving. 

But  the  greatest  mystery  of  all  was  the  crim- 
son flash.  He  had  seen  it  leap  down  from  the 
air  and  turn  the  tiger,  loose  in  the  big  tent, 
blood  red.  He  had  seen  it  do  the  same  thing  in 
the  animal  tent.  In  his  suggestion  regarding 
the  direction  of  the  sun's  rays  in  the  Arctic, 
Pant  had  intimated  that  rays  of  light  could  be 
made  to  follow  crooked  paths.  If  this  could  be 
done,  if  Pant  held  within  his  fertile  brain  the 


188  The  Crimson  Flash 

secret  of  this  terrible  power,  what  a  wonderful 
fellow  he  was!  How  it  would  transform  mod- 
ern life,  modern  warfare!  Trenches  would  be 
utterly  useless  once  a  light  might  be  thrown 
upon  them  from  any  angle.  Many  things  that 
were  dark,  secret  and  hidden  in  every  day  life 
would  be  clear  as  the  light  of  day.  What  dark 
corner,  what  secret  rendezvous,  would  be  safe 
from  the  glare  of  those  crooked  rays  of  gleam- 
ing light? 

Johnny  pondered  until  his  head  whirled,  then, 
rising  and  shaking  himself,  he  made  his  way  to 
the  sleeping  car  in  which  he  now  bunked.  The 
circus  would  soon  be  on  its  way  to  the  next 
small  city. 

That  next  small  city,  if  Johnny  had  but  known 
it,  was  only  ten  miles  from  the  home  of  the 
grandparents  of  the  millionaire  twins.  They 
had  ridden  cross  country  for  a  visit  to  their 
grandparents.  Along  the  roads  they  had  seen 
glaring  posters  announcing  the  coming  of  the 
circus.  They  had  decided  at  once  that  now  was 
the  time  to  join  that  circus.  Their  circus  riding 


In  Tom  Stick's  House  189 

clothes  were  in  the  trunk,  which  had  been  sent 
on  by  express.  Even  as  Johnny  rose  from  be- 
side the  fire,  the  twins,  in  their  beds  at  their 
grandfather's  rambling,  old  house,  were  plan- 
ning how,  on  the  morrow,  they  would  slip  on 
their  circus  garb  underneath  their  dresses,  and 
ride  away  to  discover  their  old  friend,  Johnny, 
and  join  the  parade. 

Morning  broke  bright  and  clear  on  the  old 
fair  grounds  of  Rokford,  which  was  the  place 
of  the  great  circus'  next  one  day  stand.  When 
Johnny  had  eaten  breakfast,  he  strolled  past  the 
cooking  tent  and,  'having  paused  to  admire  the 
row  of  shining  copper  steam  kettles,  he  thought 
of  his  promise  to  get  in  touch  with  the  manager 
of  these  kettles.  The  cook  was  not  in  sight  at 
that  moment,  so  Johnny  paused  to  study  these 
great  vats,  which  resembled  nothing  so  much  as 
giant  kettle  drums. 

"Just  a  twist  of  the  valve  and  the  steam  does 
the  rest,"  he  murmured  to  himself. 

"  Great,  ain't  they  ?  "  a  voice  said  at  his  elbow. 

"Sure  are."     Johnny  turned  about.     It  was 


190  The  Crimson  Flash 

the  cook.  A  tall,  slender  man,  well  past  middle 
age,  with  a  drooping  mustache,  and  a  wrinkled 
smile,  he  studied  Johnny  from  head  to  toe. 

'You're  a  boxer,"  he  said,  getting  his  smile 
into  operation.  "  Saw  you  box  a  conman  once. 
Been  wonderin'  ever  since  how  such  a  small 
fellow  could  pack  such  a  wallop." 

"  I  don't  mind  tellin'  you,"  said  Johnny.  "  It's 
absurdly  simple.  Instead  of  just  getting  the 
force  of  your  arm  muscles  into  the  blow,  or  the 
push  of  your  shoulder,  you  leap  as  you  strike, 
and  that  puts  the  whole  of  your  body  back  of 
your  mitt.  That's  easy,  isn't  it?" 

"  I  suppose  it  is,  after  you  been  doin'  it  a  few 
thousand  times ;  easy  as  f ryin'  flapjacks." 

"  How  long  have  you  been  cooking  with  steam 
kettles?"  asked  Johnny. 

"  Only  five  or  six  years.  But  I've  been  cookin' 
all  my  life.  I  was  cook  for  a  surveying  outfit 
when  the  Union  Pacific  was  built.  Boy !  Those 
were  the  days  of  real  sport.  Used  to  run  out  of 
fuel  and  everything." 

A  humorous  twinkle  lurked  about  the  man's 


In  Tom  Stick's  House  191 

eyes,  as  he  lighted  his  pipe  and  sat  down  on  an 
upturned  bucket. 

"I  mind  one  time,"  he  mused,  "when  we  was 
plumb  out  of  wood,  and  nothin'  but  grass; 
prairie  all  'round  us.  Just  enough  fire  to  make 
coffee ;  not  enough  to  fry  flapjacks,  and  the  near- 
est supply  station  thirty  miles  away." 

"What  did  you  do?"  asked  Johnny. 

"Well,  sir,"  the  cook  removed  his  pipe  and 
spat  on  the  ground,  "I  said,  'Boys,  there'll  be 
flapjacks  for  breakfast  just  the  same.'  I  mixed 
'em  up  as  usual  in  a  big  tin  bucket.  I  gave  the 
bucket  to  one  of  the  boys,  and  a  hunk  of  bacon 
rind  to  another,  and  told  'em  all  to  follow  me. 
I  struck  a  match  and  set  the  prairie  grass  on 
fire;  then  I  held  my  fryin'  pan  over  it  until  it 
was  hot.  I  baked  the  first  flapjack  and  tossed 
it  out  of  the  pan  over  my  shoulder.  Some  fel- 
low caught  and  ate  it.  I  did  another  and  an- 
other the  same  way,  and  kept  that  up  until  every 
fellow  in  the  bunch  was  satisfied." 

Johnny  smiled.  The  cook  smiled,  spat  on  the 
ground,  then  concluded  his  story.  "When  we 


192  The  Crimson  Flash 

got  through  breakfast  we  were  ten  miles  from 
camp.  Prairie  fire  travels.  So  did  we." 

Johnny  laughed ;  then  he  thought  and  laughed 
again.  After  a  time  he  rose  and  went  on  his 
way. 

"That's  another  fellow,"  he  told  himself, 
"that  I'd  never  suspect  of  being  a  crook,  but 
what's  that  about  people  who  'smile  and  smile 
and  are  a  villain  still '  ?  A  fellow  has  to  watch 
out." 

He  was  just  thinking  of  this  when  a  shrill 
voice  piped: 

"Hello,  Johnny!    Want  to  see  my  house?" 

It  was  Tom  Stick,  the  midget  clown.  He  was 
offering  Johnny  a  rare  privilege ;  inviting  him  to 
view  the  inside  of  his  house  on  wheels.  Pant 
had  told  Johnny  that  such  a  boon  had  been 
granted  to  no  one.  Yet,  because  it  was  so  rare, 
and  because  of  Pant's  warning,  "They'll  stab 
you  in  the  back,"  he  was  tempted  for  a  second 
to  decline. 

Courage  and  curiosity  overcame  his  fears,  and 
smiling  he  said: 


In  Tom  Stick's  House  193 

"  Sure !     Lead  the  way." 

The  clown's  house  was  little  more  than  a  box 
on  wheels,  but  once  Johnny  had  crowded  him- 
self through  the  narrow  door  and  seated  him- 
self, much  humped  up,  on  a  miniature  chair,  he 
was  surprised  at  the  completeness  of  its  fur- 
nishings. He  could  easily  imagine  himself  in  a 
hunter's  lodge  in  the  depths  of  the  forest.  An 
open  fireplace,  with  a  real  wood  fire  burning,  a 
roughly  hewn  table,  benches  beside  the  fireplace, 
a  cluster  of  fox  skins  hanging  in  the  corner,  a 
bear  skin  on  the  floor,  rifles  hanging  on  one 
wall;  all  these,  with  the  unmistakable  odor  of 
fresh  pine  wood,  went  far  toward  taking  him 
back  to  the  forests. 

"You  see,"  squeaked  Tom  Stick,  rubbing  his 
hands  in  delight  at  Johnny's  astonishment,  "I 
was  born  and  brought  up  in  the  Maine  woods. 
I  loved  the  wild  out-of-doors,  and  when  the  cir- 
cus people  offered  me  big  money  to  join  them, 
I  told  them  no.  But  my  mother  needed  the 
money,  so,  at  last,  I  told  them  if  they'd  build  me 
this  house,  and  never  disturb  me  in  it,  I'd  come. 


194  The  Crimson  Flash 

You  see  they  did.  I've  never  had  any  of  the 
other  circus  people  in  here.  Didn't  think  they'd 
understand.  They've  always  lived  in  a  tent. 
They'd  laugh  at  a  fellow  who  wanted  a  home 
with  four  board  walls,  a  ceiling,  and  a  smell  of 
the  pine  woods  in  it.  But  I  knew  you  wouldn't. 
You've  had  a  home,  and  you  know  the  woods. 
Tell  that  by  the  color  in  your  cheeks,  and  the 
way  you  swing  your  arms  when  you  walk." 

For  a  moment  the  dwarf  was  silent,  then  sud- 
denly he  shot  a  question  at  his  visitor. 

"Johnny,  what  do  you  live  for?" 

"Why,  why,  I  don't  know,"  Johnny  stam- 
mered. "Just  live  because  it's  fun  to  live,  I  sup- 
pose." 

The  midget  wrinkled  his  small  brow  in 
thought. 

"Not  so  bad,"  he  murmured.  "Not  so  bad. 
But  Johnny;  did  you  ever  wonder  what  a  little 
fellow  like  me  lives  for  ?  " 

"  No,  I  didn't,"  Johnny  admitted. 

"  Well,  there's  a  lot  of  things  we  can't  do  that 


In  Tom  Stick's  House  195 

big  folks  can ;  but  there's  one  thing,  Johnny,  one 
thing,"  Tom's  tone  died  to  a  whisper;  "a  short 
man  can  have  a  tall  bank  account.  He  can, 
can't  he,  Johnny?"  The  little  fellow  twisted 
his  face  into  a  knowing  smile. 

"I  guess  he  can,"  grinned  Johnny,  "and  it's 
a  fine  thing  that  he  can." 

Johnny  had  stepped  over  and  was  examining 
an  ancient  squirrel  rifle,  which  Tom  explained 
had  belonged  to  his  grandfather,  when  he  no- 
ticed the  way  the  walls  of  the  house  were  fast- 
ened. The  walls  were  made  of  fresh  pine  slabs. 
They  were  wired  tight  to  something  behind 
them.  "Iron  bars,"  was  his  mental  comment. 
"When  they  made  this  they  just  built  it  inside 
a  wild  animal  cage.  I  wonder  what  would  hap- 
pen if  a  fellow  were  to  get  locked  in  here?" 

He  was  speculating  on  this,  when  he  heard  a 
voice  outside  calling. 

"  Johnny,  Johnny  Thompson ! "    It  was  Gwen. 

He  answered  the  call  and,  turning  to  his  little 
host,  said:  "Guess  I  better  go.  Some  work,  I 


196  The  Crimson  FlasH 

suppose.    Great  little  house,  you've  got.    Much 
obliged  for  letting  me  see  it." 

He  backed  out  of  the  door  and  hurried  away 
to  join  Gwen,  but  even  as  he  did  so,  he  thought 
of  the  midget  clown's  reference  to  a  tall  bank 
account,  and  of  his  house  built  inside  a  cage. 
What  if  this  little  fellow  was  a  miser?  What  if 
his  greed  for  gold  had  led  him  into  counterfeit- 
ing? What  if  he  were  Black  McCree?  What 
safer  place  could  be  found  for  hiding  a  counter- 
feiter's den  than  a  house  built  inside  a  cage  on 
wheels  ? 

All  these  speculations  were  cut  short  by  the 
appearance  of  the  smiling  face  of  his  lady  box- 
ing partner,  Gwen. 

"It's  the  clown  stunt,"  she  exclaimed  excit- 
edly. "  The  big  chief  fell  for  it  right  away.  He 
hurried  a  messenger  off  to  Chicago  for  the  bal- 
loons. They're  already  here,  and  they've  tried 
them  out  with  a  dummy  and  they  worked  beauti-  t 
fully.  They  want  you  to  try  it  right  away." 

"This  dummy,"  smiled  Johnny,  "he  didn't 
fall  and  break  his  neck,  did  he  ?  " 


In  Tom  Stick's  House  197 

"No,  of  course  not,  Silly!" 

"  Well,  here's  hoping  I  don't,  but  it's  a  power- 
ful long  distance  from  the  top  of  the  center  tent 
pole  down  to  the  sawdust." 


CHAPTER  XV 
BURSTING  BALLOONS 

The  big  top  had  never  been  more  crowded 
than  it  was  the  night  of  Johnny's  first  perform- 
ance as  a  clown.  And  never,  in  the  memory  of 
the  oldest  circus  man,  had  there  been  a  jollier 
throng.  Never  had  there  been  an  act  more 
thoroughly  appreciated  than  that  of  Gwen,  the 
Queen,  and  Johnny,  the  fat  clown. 

Johnny  had  been  dressed  in  inflated  rubber 
clothing  until  he  appeared  as  fat  as  a  butcher. 
When,  by  the  aid  of  the  balloons,  he  rose  to  the 
tight  wire,  when  he  tripped  lightly  along  it,  and 
returned  cakewalking,  the  spectators  howled 
their  approval.  But  when  in  apparent  conster- 
nation, he  lost  his  step  and  instead  of  plunging 
downward,  leaped  upward  with  the  sudden  lift 
of  the  balloons,  they  rose  to  their  feet  and  roared 
their  delight. 

198 


Bursting  Balloons  199 

Silently,  calmly,  he  rose  toward  the  tent  top. 
There  was  nothing  calm  about  the  feelings  that 
surged  in  Johnny's  breast,  however.  He  had 
never  been  in  aviation,  and  never  would  be. 
Going  up  in  the  air  made  him  feel  sick.  Had  it 
not  been  for  Gwen,  he  would  have  refused  to 
attempt  this  stunt. 

"  Oh,  well ! "  he  sighed,  "  here's  the  top ;  now  I 
can  grab  the  rope  and  come  down.  Rope's  more 
certain  than  these  balloons." 

Hardly  had  the  thought  passed  through  his 
brain  than  there  came  a  loud  report.  So  close  it 
was  that  it  hurt  his  ear  drums.  It  was  followed 
almost  instantly  by  a  second  explosion. 

"The  balloons,"  Johnny  groaned.  "They're 
bursting ! " 

For  a  second  his  head  whirled.  To  drop  from 
those  dizzy  heights  meant  death.  Then  his  mind 
cleared.  The  rope  was  to  his  right.  Already  he 
was  beginning  to  shoot  downward.  Could  he 
reach  it?  With  one  wild  leap  in  mid-air,  he 
thrust  out  a  hand.  He  grasped  the  rope  with 
his  left,  then  lost  his  hold.  With  his  right,  he 


200  The  Crimson  FlasH 

secured  a  firmer  grip.  At  that  same  instant  the 
last  balloon  burst.  For  one  sickening  moment, 
he  clung  there,  swinging  backward  and  forward, 
madly  groping  for  the  rope  with  his  free  hand. 
At  last,  he  found  it,  and,  with  a  sigh  of  relief, 
began  sliding  down  the  rope. 

The  crowd  was  standing  up  cheering.  The 
band  was  playing.  Even  the  performers  thought 
it  part  of  the  act. 

For  a  minute  or  two  after  he  had  reached  the 
ground,  Johnny  rested  on  a  mat.  As  he  rose  to 
go  he  noticed  something  lying  in  the  sawdust. 
Carelessly  he  picked  it  up,  examined  it,  then  gave 
a  low  whistle.  It  was  an  arrow-like  affair.  The 
shaft  was  of  steel  wire,  the  head  of  wood.  The 
head  had  been  discolored,  part  yellow  and  part 
dark  brown. 

"  Sulphur ! "  he  murmured.  "  Dipped  in  burn- 
ing sulphur,  then  shot  at  my  balloons!  No  won- 
der they  exploded.  Now,  who  played  that  dirty 
trick?" 

He  examined  the  thing  carefully.  "Couldn't 
have  been  shot  from  a  bow,  no  groove  for  the 


Bursting  Balloons  201 

bow  string.  Now  I  wonder.  An  air  rifle,  that's 
what  it  was." 

Quickly  there  flashed  before  his  mind  a  pic- 
ture of  a  midget  clown  chasing  a  huge  elephant 
around  the  ring.  The  clown  was  dressed  in  equa- 
torial hunting  garb  and  carried  an  air  rifle. 

"Tom  Stick!"  Johnny  murmured.  "Tom 
Stick  and  his  air  rifle!  I  wouldn't  have  thought 
he'd  do  it." 

Slowly  he  walked  back  through  the  alleyway 
that  led  to  the  dressing  room. 

He  had  discarded  his  clown  suit  and  had 
walked  out  into  the  open  air,  when  a  shrill 
young  voice  called  his  name : 

"Johnny,  Johnny  Thompson." 

Whirling  about,  he  found  himself  facing  the 
millionaire  twins.  They  were  riding  astride  their 
ponies,  and  were  dressed  as  if  ready  for  their 
turn  in  the  ring. 

"  Wha  —  where'd  you  come  from,  and  who  let 
you  in  ?  "  he  gasped. 

"  We  came  from  our  grandfather's  to  join  the 
circus,"  piped  Marjory. 


202  The  Crimson  Flash 

"Yes,  and  to  think,"  Margaret  fairly  wailed, 
"we  got  here  too  late  for  the  parade!" 

Johnny  looked  at  them  for  a  moment,  then 
laughed  a  good  natured  laugh. 

"Got  let  down,  didn't  you?"  he  smiled. 
"Well,  so  did  I  a  minute  ago,  mighty  sudden, 
too.  But  perhaps  we  can  get  you  into  a  part 
yet,  since  this  is  positively  your  first  and  last 
appearance." 

"Oh,  no,  Johnny,"  exclaimed  Marjory,  "not 
the  last !  We've  come  to  stay  as  long  as  you  do." 

"Then  I  don't  stay  long,"  laughed  Johnny. 
"Circus  is  no  place  for  millionaire  twins.  You 
wait  right  here.  I'll  be  back." 

By  dint  of  much  persuading,  Johnny  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  the  twins  a  place  on  the  pro- 
gram. At  the  end  of  the  races  came  a  pony 
race.  The  ponies  were  ridden  by  monkeys.  It 
was  arranged  that  the  two  little  girls,  on  their 
own  ponies,  were  to  race  the  monkeys  on  their 
circus  mounts. 

It  was  a  wilder  and  more  genuine  race  than 
is  usually  pulled  off  in  the  circus,  for  the  twins 


Bursting  Balloons  203 

were  dead  in  earnest  about  winning  it,  and  so 
were  the  monkeys.  The  monkeys  and  their 
ponies  had  played  at  racing  so  long,  however, 
they  were  not  able  to  get  seriously  down  to 
business.  When  the  twins  were  riding  neck  and 
neck,  three  lengths  ahead  of  their  nearest  rivals, 
they  delighted  the  throng  by  leaping  upon  their 
feet  and  riding  in  this  manner  around  the  last 
sweeping  circle  and  out  of  sight. 

"That's  fine,"  exclaimed  the  manager,  rub- 
bing his  hands.  "Who  are  they,  friends  of 
yours?  Can  we  book  'em  for  the  rest  of  the 
season  ?  "  He  was  speaking  to  Johnny. 

"  Can't  book  them  for  another  show,"  groaned 
Johnny.  "And  I'll  get  skinned  alive  for  letting 
them  in  on  this  one.  They're  the  daughters  of 
Major  MacDonald,  the  steel  magnate.  Ran 
away  from  their  grandfather's,  and  they  go  back 
to-night" 

The  manager  whistled.  "Too  bad  to  spoil 
perfectly  good  circus  girls  to  make  society 
belles,"  he  smiled.  "But  seein'  that's  who  they 
are,  I  guess  it  can't  be  helped." 


204  The  Crimson  Flash 

"Oow-wee!  That  was  grand!"  exclaimed 
Marjory,  who  now  came  up  with  her  sister. 
" Did  we  make  good.  Can  we  stay?" 

"  You  made  good,  but  you  can't  stay,"  smiled 
Johnny.  "What  do  you  suppose  your  grand- 
parents are  thinking  of  about  now?" 

"  Oh,  they  won't  know  about  it  at  all.  We 
are  supposed  to  be  over  here  with  friends  who 
live  down  on  Pine  street.  That's  how  they  let 
us  come  at  all.  These  friends  are  real  old  folks 
and  don't  go  to  circuses.  When  we  got  here, 
we  called  them  up  as  if  we  were  at  home  and 
told  them  we  couldn't  come;  so  you  see  it's  all 
right.  And,  Johnny,  if  we  can't  stay  and  be 
circus  folks,  we  can  stay  just  one  night,  can't 
we,  and  have  a  real  ride  in  a  circus  train?" 

Johnny  looked  at  the  manager. 

"  Sure,"  grinned  the  good  natured  boss  of  the 
circus.  "  We'll  put  you  in  the  care  of  Ma  Kelly, 
the  circus  girls'  matron,  and  you'll  be  safe  as  a 
bean  in  a  bowl  of  soup." 

"  How  far  do  we  move  ?  "  asked  Johnny,  a  bit 
anxiously. 


Bursting  Balloons  205 

"Only  forty  miles,  and  that  leaves  us  less 
than  thirty  miles  from  their  grandfather's  place. 
They  can  make  it  back  all  right." 

"I'll  borrow  one  of  the  rough  riders'  ponies, 
and  hoof  it  back  with  them,"  said  Johnny.  "  But 
remember,"  he  turned  to  the  twins,  "remember, 
this  is  the  last.  To-morrow  morning  you  turn 
your  faces  toward  home.  And  by  thunder!  I 
wish  I  could  go  along  to  stay!" 

"Why?  Why  can't  you?"  cried  Marjory. 
"We  want  you  to.  Indeed,  we  do." 

"I  can't  tell  you  now.  Maybe  some  time. 
You  stay  right  here.  I'll  send  Ma  Kelly  around. 
Then  I've  got  to  go  box  the  bear." 

Johnny  rushed  away,  and  that  was  the  last 
they  saw  of  him  for  some  time. 


THE  WRECK  OF  THE  CIRCUS 

That  night,  as  Johnny  listened  to  the  chant 
of  the  negroes  as  they  went  about  their  tasks  of 
breaking  camp  and  loading,  he  fancied  that 
there  was  a  weird  and  restless  tone  to  it,  fore- 
telling some  catastrophe  brooding  over  all. 

The  night  was  dark,  with  black,  rainless 
clouds  hurrying  across  the  sky.  Johnny  shiv- 
ered as  he  walked  toward  his  sleeping  car.  His 
hand  was  on  the  rail  when  someone  touched  his 
arm.  It  was  Pant. 

"Johnny,"  he  whispered,  "how'd  you  like  to 
ride  with  me  in  the  gondola  to-night  ?  " 

"Oh,  all  right,"  Johnny  answered,  a  note  of 
impatience  in  his  voice. 

"  If  it's  going  to  be  a  bother,  don't  come." 

"I'll  come  along." 

206 


The  Wreck  of  the  Circus  207 

''Thought  you  might  like  to  be  in  on  some- 
thing big." 

"I've  been  in  on  something  big  twice  to-day. 
The  first  came  near  to  being  my  funeral,  and 
the  second  will  be,  if  I  don't  get  those  twins 
back  to  their  grandfather's  pretty  quick." 

Johnny  told  Pant  of  the  day's  experiences,  as 
they  made  their  way  back  to  a  tent  car. 

"  Oh,  you'll  come  out  all  right  with  the  twins," 
said  Pant.  "I  only  hope  we  don't  get  into 
things  that'll  muss  us  up  to-night,  but  we'll  go 
careful." 

"Of  course,"  he  whispered,  as  they  settled 
down  among  the  piles  of  canvas,  "it's  that  Lib- 
erty bond  business.  I've  been  scouting  'round 
in  the  towns  we've  been  in,  and  the  way  they've 
been  spreading  the  '  queer '  about  is  nothing  short 
of  a  super-crime. 

"  I've  been  running  up  a  blind  trail  for  a  long 
time.  Thought  I  had  something  on  that  con- 
man  with  the  ragged  ear  and  two  of  his  pals. 
I  followed  them  down  to  the  river  in  Chicago 
twice,  and  the  second  time  came  near  catching 


208  The  Crimson  Flash 

them;  would  have,  too,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  a 
rat  that  tried  to  eat  my  hand  off.  I  got  'em  the 
other  night — outfit  and  everything,  and  it 
turned  out  to  be  only  a  mimeograph  kit  for  mak- 
ing fake  telegrams,  announcing  results  of 
races,  baseball  games,  and  the  like.  I  was  sore 
when  I  found  it  was  ndthing;  might  have  been 
a  blind,  at  that.  But  I  had  to  start  all  over 
again,  and  last  night  when  we  were  on  the  way, 
I  made  a  mighty  important  discovery.  There 
was  a  light  in  the  rear  end  of  one  of  the  horse 
cars  most  of  the  night.  That's  as  far  as  I  got. 
It  was  moonlight.  They  might  see  me  if  I  came 
spying  around.  Besides,  I  wanted  someone  else 
along ;  someone  with  a  strong  arm.  Didn't  want 
to  get  pitched  off  the  train  just  when  I  had  my 
hand  on  the  trick.  Of  course,  it  may  be  just  an 
all  night  crap  game,  but  I  don't  think  so.  Any- 
way, we'll  see.  We'll  let  them  get  under  way, 
then  when  we're  clipping  it  up  at  a  lively  rate, 
and  the  moon's  under,  we'll  have  a  look." 

Pant  fell  silent,  apparently  lost  in  his  intricate 
problem.    Johnny  yawned. 


The  Wreck  of  the  Circus 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later  Johnny  was  just 
dropping  off  into  a  doze,  when  Pant  gripped  his 
arm  and  whispered: 

"C'mon.    Let's  go!" 

Having  climbed  over  two  gondolas  and  the 
top  of  a  one-time  express  car,  they  dropped  cat- 
like from  the  roof  of  the  express  car  to  the 
platform  of  a  second  express  car. 

Here  they  stood  silent,  listening  for  fully  two 
minutes.  At  first  everything  appeared  dark,  but 
presently  Johnny  caught  a  faint  gleam  of  light 
that  apparently  came  through  a  crack  in  a  lower 
panel  of  the  express  car  door. 

"What'll  we  do  if  they  come  out  at  us.  It's 
a  rotten  place,"  he  whispered.  Just  then  the  car 
gave  a  lurch  which  almost  threw  him  from  the 
narrow  platform. 

"  Duck  and  jump." 

"Mighty  risky." 

"Only  chance.  Too  many  of  'em.  Probably 
guns  and  everything." 

"All  right.    Get  busy." 

Pant  dropped  on  his  knee  and,  bracing  him- 


210  The  Crimson  Flask 

self  to  avoid  being  thrown  against  the  door  by 
a  sudden  lurch,  peered  through  the  crack. 

What  he  saw  drew  forth  a  whispered  excla- 
mation : 

"It's  the  real  gang!" 

For  some  time  all  was  silent.  Johnny's  heart 
was  doing  time  and  a  half.  What  if  they  were 
forced  to  stand  and  fight  or  jump?  He  shivered 
as  he  tried  to  make  out  the  embankment  through 
the  darkness.  They  were  racing  down  grade. 

"We've  got  'em!  It's  the  gang!"  Pant  whis- 
pered again.  "Look!" 

He  rose  and  stepped  aside.  With  muscles  set 
for  action,  Johnny  dropped  on  his  knees,  and, 
shutting  one  eye,  peered  through  the  narrow 
opening. 

What  he  saw  astonished  him.  In  a  brilliantly 
lighted  room,  the  width  of  the  car,  and  some  ten 
feet  deep,  four  men  were  working  rapidly,  and 
apparently  with  great  skill.  What  surprised  him 
most  of  all  was  that  all  four  men  wore  heavily 
smoked  glasses,  such  as  Pant  himself  wore.  He 
saw  at  a  glance  that  neither  the  steam  kettle 


The  Wreck  of  the  Circus  211 

cook  nor  the  midget  clown  was  with  them.  He 
was  glad  the  cook  was  not  there.  His  feeling 
regarding  the  midget,  after  the  events  of  the 
previous  day,  was  not  unmixed. 

The  things  the  men  were  doing  interested 
him  immensely.  Two  of  them  appeared  to  be 
putting  little  squares  of  paper  through  a  wash, 
such  as  a  photographer  uses.  A  third  was  dry- 
ing them  before  a  motor-driven,  superheated 
electric  fan.  The  fourth  was  stamping  them  in 
a  small  press.  Each  time  he  stamped  one,  he 
appeared  to  change  the  type. 

Presently,  the  two  who  were  handling  the 
baths  appeared  to  come  to  the  end  of  their  tasks. 
Hardly  had  they  spoken  a  word  to  their  com- 
panions than  each  man  stepped  to  a  corner,  and, 
turning  his  back  from  the  center  of  the  room, 
stood  there  motionless. 

"Wha — "  Johnny's  lips  formed  the  word. 
There  was  not  time  to  finish.  The  next  instant 
he  dropped  limply  back  upon  the  platform,  as  if 
he  had  been  shot. 

"What   is   it,   Johnny?"   Pant   whispered   in 


212  The  Crimson  Flash 

alarm.    Johnny's  hands  covered  his  face. 

"The  flash!     My  eyes!    They're  blind!" 

Pant  pushed  him  roughly  to  one  side. 

"Let's  see." 

Johnny  slid  back  to  the  other  car  platform. 
jStill  dazed  by  the  sudden  flood  of  light  that  had 
struck  his  eye,  but  fast  recovering,  he  watched 
Pant  with  interest,  not  unmingled  with  awe.  By 
the  sudden  spurts  of  light  that  shot  through  the 
crack,  he  knew  that  the  flashes  were  being  con- 
tinued, yet  Pant  did  not  remove  his  eye.  He 
still  crouched  there  before  the  crack.  Gazing 
intently  within,  he  uttered  now  and  then  a 
stifled  "Ah!"  and  "Oh!"  at  the  marvels  which 
he  was  viewing. 

Finally  he  dropped  back  to  a  seat  beside 
Johnny. 

"Eyes  all  right  now?"  he  asked. 

"  Sure.  What  was  it  ?  "  queried  Johnny,  for- 
getting his  aching  eyes. 

"Color  photography." 

"Color  photography?" 


The  Wreck  of  the  Circus  213 

"Sure.  One  of  the  great  inventions  of  the 
age,  and  they  are  using  it  for  making  counter- 
feit bonds ! " 

Johnny  was  silent. 

'You  see,"  whispered  Pant,  "great  inventors 
have  been  experimenting  with  color  photog- 
raphy for  years.  They  got  so  they  could  do 
color  work  on  negatives  —  that  is,  the  photo- 
graphic plate  —  very  well.  They  have  used  these 
for  the  purpose  of  photographing  the  stages  of 
certain  diseases,  and  a  few  things  like  that;  but 
when  it  came  to  getting  the  color  on  the  posi- 
tive—  the  picture  itself — that  could  not  be 
done.  These  fellows  can  do  it,  and  are  doing  it. 
The  bonds  are  printed  in  brown  and  black.  They 
catch  these  colors  perfectly,  only  in  a  little  paler 
hue.  Their  paper  is  nearly  perfect,  but  what- 
ever defects  it  has  are  counteracted  by  this  color 
photography  which  reproduces  the  very  tints  of 
the  paper." 

For  some  time  they  sat  there  in  silence. 

"Now  that  we  know  their  game,"  whispered 


214  The  Crimson  Flash 

Pant  at  last,  "how  are  we  going  to  get  them? 
One  of  the  fellows  is  a  ticket  seller.  He  sold 
Snowball  some  bonds  when  we  were  in  Chicago. 
I  might  have  known  he  was  in  it.  Another  is  a 
guard  at  the  entrance  of  the  big  top." 

"  Sold  me  some  bonds  once." 

"That's  right.  The  other  two  I  don't  know. 
Let's  have  another  look." 

Pant  had  just  put  his  eyes  to  the  crack; 
Johnny  was  standing  behind  him,  when  there 
ran  through  the  train  a  sickening  shiver.  The 
next  instant  there  followed  a  deafening  crash, 
as  car  jammed  upon  car,  and,  leaping  high  upon 
one  another,  left  the  track. 

It  was  a  wreck — such  a  wreck  as  is  seldom 
witnessed — the  wreck  of  a  circus  train;  a  head- 
end collision  with  a  bob-tailed  freight  running 
like  mad. 

At  the  moment  previous  to  the  first  shock  of 
the  wreck,  Gwen  might  have  been  seen  sitting 
in  her  own  compartment  talking  earnestly  with 
the  millionaire  twins.  None  of  the  three  had 
yet  undressed  for  retiring.  The  things  the  twins 


The  Wreck  of  the  Circus  215 

were  telling  Gwen  had  much  to  do  with  Johnny 
Thompson,  and  appeared  to  interest  her  very 
much,  for  now  and  then  there  came  an  amused, 
and  again  a  surprised,  twinkle  in  her  eye.  At 
one  time,  a  close  observer  might  have  seen  her 
slip  a  ring  from  her  finger,  a  ring  that  had  been 
covered  by  the  folds  of  her  dress.  The  ring  she 
crowded  deep  into  the  pocket  of  her  blouse  be- 
neath her  handkerchief. 

When  the  wreck  occurred,  the  car  they  were 
in,  a  staunch  steel  affair,  leaped  high  in  air,  then 
wholly  uninjured,  left  the  track  to  topple  over 
on  one  side  and  lay  there  quite  still. 

Gwen  had  been  shaken  from  her  seat  and 
jammed  beneath  the  one  before  her.  The  twins, 
gripping  the  sides,  held  on  as  if  riding  a  frac- 
tious broncho,  and  were  not  shaken  loose. 

"Oh!"  cried  Marjory,  as  the  car  settled  to 
rest,  "Johnny  Thompson  and  our  ponies!  We 
must  find  them.  They  may  be  killed." 

The  pair  of  them,  sliding  from  their  seats, 
had  crawled  through  a  window,  and  were  away 
before  Gwen  could  sufficiently  recover  her  breath 


216  The  Crimson  Flash 

to  call  them  back.  She  wrung  her  hands  in  real 
distress. 

"They'll  be  killed!"  she  cried  frantically. 
"Half  the  lions  and  tigers  in  the  circus  must  be 
loose!" 

Then  she  scrambled  out  of  the  car  to  find 
Johnny  Thompson.  He  would  know  what  to  do ! 


CHAPTER  XVII 
"GET  THAT  BLACK  CAT" 

At  the  first  shock  of  the  wreck,  Johnny 
Thompson  and  Pant  were  thrown  with  such  vio- 
lence against  the  express  car  door  that  the  lock 
was  sprung,  and  they  were  pitched  head  fore- 
most among  the  surprised  and  panic-stricken 
counterfeiters. 

Pant  was  the  first  to  regain  his  wits.  The 
car,  like  many  others,  had  careened  to  one  side 
and  lay  there  motionless.  The  instruments  in 
the  room  had  been  tossed  about.  Everyone  was 
splashed  with  a  stinging  fluid  which  came  from 
the  vats.  The  peculiar  instrument  which  had 
occupied  the  center  of  the  room,  and  was  un- 
doubtedly the  color-photo  camera,  an  instrument 
of  priceless  value,  had  apparently  sustained  lit- 
tle injury.  Pant  seized  upon  this  and  was  about 
to  dash  through  the  door  with  it,  when  the  large 

217 


218  The  Crimson  FlasH 

man  with  the  black  moustache  wrenched  it  from 
his  grasp,  and,  poising  it  for  an  instant  in  his 
right  hand,  hurled  it  at  Pant's  head.  Leaping 
to  one  side,  Pant  barely  escaped  the  blow.  There 
was  a  crash,  followed  by  the  tinkle  of  glass  and 
metal  instruments. 

The  next  moment  the  big  man  shot  suddenly 
upward  and  fell  back  with  a  groan.  Johnny's 
good  right  hand  had  got  him  under  the  chin. 
Two  of  the  men  leaped  from  the  door  and  fled. 
The  one  remaining  sprang  at  Pant,  but  was  at 
once  borne  down  by  Johnny. 

"Tear  some  of  those  wires  from  the  wall," 
panted  Johnny.  "  We'll  tie  them  and  drag  them 
out." 

The  fat  man,  who  was  completely  within  their 
power,  was  soon  tied,  then  carried  out  of  the 
car  to  the  embankment. 

"Now  for  the  other,"  puffed  Johnny. 

They  dodged  back  into  the  car.  To  their 
astonishment,  they  found  that  the  other  man  had 
escaped. 

"Gone!"  muttered  Pant. 


"Get  That  Black  Cat"  219 

"Faked  unconsciousness." 

"And  he  was  the  prize  bird  of  them  all." 

"Too  bad!" 

Suddenly  Pant  appeared  to  remember  some- 
thing. 

"Johnny,"  he  whispered  in  a  tense  whisper, 
"Johnny,  get  that  black  cat!" 

Catching  his  breath,  Johnny  sprang  from  the 
car. 

"Wait,"  whispered  Pant.  From  his  pocket 
he  had  drawn  a  tiny  vial. 

'That,"  he  whispered,  "may  help  you.  It's 
what  they  call  cat-lick  in  India.  An  old  Hindu 
gave  it  to  me  after  I  had  captured  the  big  black 
cat.  He  said  it  was  like  catnip  to  the  cat.  When 
a  tiger  or  leopard  smelled  it,  if  he  could  get 
near  the  spot  where  a  drop  had  been  spilled  he 
forgot  his  savageness,  and  laid  down  to  roll  in 
it.  I'm  not  sure.  It  sounds  queer.  Try  it  if 
you  must." 

"  You  got  some  ?  " 

"Sure." 

"  I'll  go  up  track ;  you  go  down." 


220  The  Crimson  Flash 

"Right!  And  Johnny,"  Pant  repeated,  "get 
the  black  cat ! " 

Johnny  had  scarcely  turned  from  the  car  when 
he  almost  ran  into  somebody. 

"Gwen!"  he  exclaimed  in  surprise.  "What 
you  doing  out  here?  Don't  you  know  half  the 
beasts  are  loose?  Listen  to  that?" 

The  long  drawn  out  roar  of  a  lion  sounded 
above  the  wail  of  darkies,  the  neighing  of  ponies, 
and  the  trumpeting  of  bull  elephants. 

"  I  know,  Johnny,  but  Johnny,  nothing  half  so 
terrible  could  ever  have  been  dreamed  of ! " 

"The  wreck?  I  know.  Some  people  are  al- 
most sure  to  have  been  killed." 

"But  the  twins?" 

"Where  are  they?" 

'  I  don't  know.  They  were  in  the  car  with  me 
when  the  shock  came.  They  were  telling  me 
about  —  all  about  you.  They  got  away  while  I 
was  freeing  myself  from  the  seats.  Went  to 
find  you  and  their  ponies.  Oh,  Johnny,  we  must 
find  them  quick!" 

"Yes,"  Johnny  answered,  "but  watch  out  for 


"Get  That  Black  Cat"  221 

the  black  cat,  the  leopard.  He's  a  man-eater 
from  the  jungle." 

"Oh!"  she  exclaimed.  "And  I  saw  him  not 
a  minute  ago.  He's  loose  from  his  cage.  He 
was  crouching  in  the  corner  of  the  wreck.  I 
caught  the  gleam  of  his  eyes." 

"Where?" 

"Back  there." 

Johnny  started  forward. 

"Johnny,  you  won't  go?" 

"I  must." 

"You'll  be  killed." 

"  I've  got  to  get  him  first."  He  drew  an  auto- 
matic from  his  pocket.  Then  he  walked  stead- 
ily forward,  his  keen  eyes  studying  every  dark 
corner  of  the  wreck. 

Down  the  train  lengths  lights  were  flashing. 
The  keepers  were  searching  out  the  cages,  striv- 
ing to  retain  those  animals  which  had  not  yet 
yet  escaped,  and  to  locate  those  that  were  free. 
The  wooden  cars  of  an  ancient  design  which 
carried  the  animals  had  been  torn  and  crushed, 
piled  upon  one  another,  until  the  wreck  at  this 


222  The  Crimson  Flash 

point  resembled  a  kindling  pile.  Here  one  heard 
the  splintering  of  boards,  as  some  beast  at- 
tempted to  free  himself,  and  here  the  crash  of 
torn-up  planks  told  that  some  loyal  elephant 
strove  to  free  his  mate.  The  whole  scene  was 
one  of  wild  confusion.  Wildest,  most  terrifying 
of  all,  came  the  occasional  challenge  of  a  great 
cat  of  the  jungle,  now  free  to  do  the  bidding  of 

his  own  wild  will. 

#         #         #         *         *         #         # 

Hardly  had  Gwen  turned,  after  Johnny  had 
hurried  away,  than  she  uttered  a  cry  of  dismay. 
Creeping  toward  her,  his  wild  eyes  gleaming, 
was  a  gaunt,  yellow  tiger.  For  a  second  she 
was  paralyzed  with  fear.  And  in  that  second 
the  cat  made  progress  —  now  he  was  ten  yards 
away,  now  eight,  now  five. 

What  should  she  do?  To  turn,  to  attempt  to 
flee  seemed  futile.  A  tiger  could  run  much 
faster  than  she.  He  might  leap  as  she  turned. 
Her  heart  stood  still.  Cold  perspiration  came 
out  upon  her  brow. 

Just  when  hope  seemed  gone  a  strange  thing 


"Get  That  Black  Cat"  223 

happened;  a  thing  which  had  happened  once  be- 
fore under  very  different  circumstances ;  a  crim- 
son flash  leaped  out  from  the  darkness  and 
played  upon  the  tawny  coat  of  the  tiger. 
Blinded,  terrified,  the  beast  shrank  back,  yet  the 
light  still  played  full  upon  him.  Leaping  and 
flaring  like  the  light  of  a  fire,  it  held  the  animal 
at  bay  until  the  keepers  came  with  chains  and 
led  him  away. 

;)e  j|c  Jf  i(c  ^t  :):  % 

When  the  twins  jumped  out  of  the  car  win- 
dow to  go  in  search  of  Johnny  Thompson  and 
their  ponies,  they  stumbled  down  the  embank- 
ment to  climb  laboriously  up  again,  and  make 
their  way  tripping  and  falling  around  wrecked 
cars,  from  which  came  weird,  wild  sounds  of 
animals  fighting  for  freedom. 

Suddenly  from  beneath  Marjory's  feet  there 
sounded  a  queer  chatter.  Then  something 
clawed  at  her  legs.  With  a  wild  scream,  she 
shook  it  from  her.  It  was  a  monkey  that  had 
escaped  from  his  broken  cage.  Others  could  be 
heard  chattering  to  the  right  of  them.  Leaping 


224  The  Crimson  Flash 

forward  they  were  startled  by  a  great  bulk  that 
loomed  unexpectedly  before  them  in  the  dark. 

"  An  elephant ! "  screamed  Margaret. 

For  a  minute  they  hesitated;  the  next,  they 
leaped  to  one  side  and,  having  passed  the  ele- 
phant, continued  on  down  the  track.  Always  to 
the  left  of  them  there  loomed  the  overturned 
cars.  All  at  once,  from  beneath  the  wheels  of 
one  of  these  there  came  a  piercing  scream.  At 
the  same  instant  they  caught  the  gleam  of  two 
red  balls  of  fire  glaring  at  them  out  of  the  black- 
ness. Some  fierce,  wild  creature  was  lurking 
there.  And  he  moved.  Stealthily  he  made  his 
way  toward  them.  Now  he  was  away  from  the 
cars.  A  black  spot,  he  glided  forward,  his  glar- 
ing eyes  seeming  to  grow  larger  and  larger  as 
he  advanced. 

Seized  with  a  sudden  paralysis  of  fear,  the 

twins  stood  rooted  in  their  tracks. 

******* 

With  a  little  gasp  Gwen  sank  upon  the  ground. 
She  looked  in  vain  for  the  crimson  flash.  It  was 
gone.  And  now,  for  the  first  time  she  realized 


"Get  That  Black  Cat"  225 

that  she  did  not  know  the  direction  whence  it 
had  come. 

After  leaving  Gwen,  Johnny  Thompson  made 
his  way  cautiously  along  the  uneven  embank- 
ment. Now  his  eye  caught  a  gleam  that  ap- 
peared to  come  from  the  great  cat's  eyes.  It 
proved  but  the  reflection  of  some  polished  ob- 
ject. Again  he  heard  a  rattle  among  splintered 
boards,  only  to  find  a  colored  roustabout  climb- 
ing from  the  pile  of  broken  lumber  under  which 
he  had  been  buried.  Johnny  was  just  beginning 
to  believe  that  he  had  missed  both  the  black  beast 
and  the  twins  when  something  leaped  at  him  out 
of  the  darkness. 

It  took  him  but  a  second  to  realize  that  this 
was  not  a  wild  beast,  but  a  man;  the  king  of 
the  counterfeiters. 

Taken  by  surprise,  he  went  down  with  the 
man  upon  his  back.  At  the  same  instant  he 
caught  the  gleam  of  a  knife  in  the  outlaw's  hand. 
There  could  be  not  one  shadow  of  doubt  that  he 
meant  murder. 

A  terrible  struggle  followed.    The  man,  fully 


226  The  Crimson  Flash 

fifty  pounds  heavier  than  Johnny,  was  at  the 
same  time  agile  and  strong.  Now  the  knife  was 
poised  in  air,  only  to  be  dashed  to  the  ground. 
Now  Johnny  secured  a  half-nelson.  Now  his 
hold  was  broken.  And  now  Johnny  was  thrown 
to  earth  with  such  force  as  to  render  him  half 
unconscious.  Struggling  against  a  terrible  dizzi- 
ness, he  fought  but  feebly.  The  end  seemed  to 
have  come. 

But,  at  that  moment,  there  came  a  shrill 
voice : 

"  I'm  here,  Johnny  Thompson !    I'm  here ! " 

One  moment  the  knife  poised  above  his  chest; 
the  next  a  diminutive  figure  attached  itself  to 
the  arm  that  held  the  knife  and  sent  it  whirling 
to  one  side. 

"Tom  Stick,  the  midget  clown!"  gasped 
Johnny,  renewing  his  struggle  for  freedom. 

Dimly  in  the  half  light,  he  saw  what  followed. 
Turning  all  his  attention  to  this  new  enemy,  the 
counterfeiter  appeared  to  seize  the  dwarf  by  the 
heels  and  dash  him  with  terrible  force  against 
the  ground. 


"Get  That  Black  Cat"  227 

Then,  almost  instantly,  a  great,  brown  bulk 
lumbered  in  out  of  the  blackness,  and  at  that 
instant,  with  a  gurgling  cry,  the  counterfeiter 
appeared  to  rise  in  air  to  be  sent  crashing  again 
and  again  against  the  side  of  the  embankment. 

"Jo- Jo,  the  French  elephant,  Tom  Stick's 
friend!"  cried  Johnny,  leaping  to  his  feet  to 
bend  over  the  prostrate  form  of  his  little  de- 
fender. 

Two  attendants  came  hurrying  up. 

"It's  Tom  Stick,"  explained  Johnny.  "That 
other  fellow's  dead.  The  big  bull  elephant  killed 
him.  And  right  it  was.  He  deserved  it.  Look 
after  Tom.  I've  got  to  find  the  twins  and  the 
black  cat." 

Once  more,  after  recovering  his  automatic, 
which  had  been  thrown  from  him  in  the  first 
assault  of  the  counterfeiter,  he  leaped  away  into 
the  dark. 

He  was  not  a  moment  too  soon,  for  as  he 
dropped  down  from  a  pile  of  tumbled  bales  of 
canvas  he  came  face  to  face  with  the  twins. 
They  were  standing  wild  eyed,  transfixed.  Not 


228  The  Crimson  Flash 

ten  yards  away  and  within  leaping  distance,  his 
tail  lashing,  his  white  fangs  gleaming,  was  the 
great  black  cat. 

With  uncommon  coolness  Johnny  grasped  his 
automatic  and,  taking  careful  aim  at  the  spot 
between  the  creature's  fiery  eyes,  grasped  the 
handle  tight.  There  came  a  metallic  click,  but 
no  report.  The  gun  had  jammed — was  utterly 
useless.  With  a  cry  of  consternation,  Johnny 
dropped  the  gun  and  reached  for  his  clasp  knife. 
Thus  poorly  armed,  he  was  about  to  rush  at  the 
man-eater,  when  there  came  the  sudden  glare 
of  red  light  as  it  played  upon  the  great  cat. 

"The  crimson  flash!  Thank  God!"  he  mur- 
mured. 

But  the  next  instant  he  remembered  the  words 
of  Pant,  when  he  had  told  of  his  jungle  experi- 
ence :  "  He  did  not  fear  my  charm ;  he  leaped ! " 

What  now  would  be  the  outcome?  It  was  a 
time  of  terrible  suspense.  Johnny's  breath  came 
in  little  gasps.  One  of  the  twins  had  dropped  to 
the  ground. 

There  was  not  long  to  wait.     Whirling,  tfie 


"Get  That  Black  Cat"  229 

cat  leaped  away  to  the  right.  Then,  for  the  first 
time,  Johnny  saw  that  the  crimson  flash  came 
directly  from  a  dark  bulk,  a  clump  of  bushes 
close  to  the  track.  There  had  been  no  time  for 
tricks,  Pant  had  flashed  it  direct,  and  he  was 
there  now.  The  great  cat  would  be  upon  him  in 
another  minute. 

Even  as  he  sprang  after  the  cat,  Johnny 
thought  for  the  first  time  of  the  magic  perfume, 
the,  cat-lick  Pant  had  given  him.  Drawing  this 
from  his  pocket,  he  uncorked  it  as  he  ran.  He 
was  not  a  second  too  soon.  Already  the  beast's 
fangs  were  at  Pant's  throat. 

With  mad  hope  beating  at  his  heart, 
Johnny  dashed  a  few  drops  of  the  precious  per- 
fume at  the  beast's  head. 

Prepared  as  he  was  for  miracles,  he  was 
astounded  at  the  result.  The  wild  beast  became 
at  once  a  mere  house  kitten  rolling  upon  the 
ground.  Over  and  over  he  tumbled,  while  Pant, 
limping  painfully,  crept  away. 

Throwing  a  glance  about  him,  Johnny  saw 
Tom  Stick's  house  to  the  right  of  him,  and  re- 


230  The  Crimson  Flash 

membered  how  it  had  been  built  around  a  cage. 

"  Door's  still  on  the  hinges  and  open,"  he  mut- 
tered. "If  I  only  can!" 

Six  steps  he  took,  and  with  each  step,  spilled 
a  drop  of  the  precious  fluid.  Then,  with  a 
breathless  leap,  he  was  inside  the  dwarf's  house. 
Dashing  the  vial  against  the  wall,  he  caught  his 
breath  at  the  thought  that  the  cat  might  trap 
him  here;  then  with  a  wilder  leap  than  before, 
he  cleared  the  door  and  breathed  the  outer  air. 

He  was  not  a  second  too  soon.  Hot  on  the 
trail  of  that  burst  of  perfume,  the  cat  flashed 
past  him  and  into  the  house  that  was  a  cage. 

Johnny  banged  the  door  shut  and  barred  it, 
then  sank  down  upon  the  ground  for  a  quiet 
breath. 

Soon  he  rose  and,  making  his  way  to  the 
bushes,  examined  the  spot  where  the  black  cat 
had  pinned  Pant  to  the  ground. 

As  he  flashed  a  light  about,  he  uttered  a  low 
exclamation,  and  stooping,  picked  up  the  bent 
and  lenseless  ruins  of  Pant's  glasses.  He 
dropped  these  a  second  later  to  gather  up  a  mass 


"Get  That  Black  Cat"  231 

of  fine  wires  and  strangely  tangled  tubes  and 
peculiar  instruments.  These  he  crammed  into 
his  jacket  pocket,  and,  having  cast  one  more 
glance  about  him,  hastened  away  to  find  the 
twins. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
HOW  JOHNNY  GOT  THE  RING 

The  first  red  streaks  of  dawn  were  appearing" 
as  Johnny  sat  down  on  the  beam  of  a  railroad 
bridge  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  wreck. 

It  had  been  a  strange,  wild  night.  Many 
startling  things  had  happened;  many  mysteries 
had  been  solved.  Now  that  these  mysteries  were 
uncovered  he  had  come  down  here  to  think. 

Tom  Stick  was  not  one  of  the  counterfeiters; 
he  knew  that  now.  Neither  was  the  steam  kettle 
cook,  nor  the  conman  with  the  ragged  ear.  The 
real  culprits  had  attempted  to  cast  the  guilt  upon 
them,  that  was  all.  The  arch  criminal,  Black 
McCree,  was  dead.  Jo-Jo,  the  elephant,  had 
thrashed  the  life  out  of  him  when  McCree  had 
attempted  to  murder  his  master,  the  midget 
clown.  The  fat  accomplice  of  Black  McCree 
had  confessed  that  his  partner  was  that  noto- 

232 


How  Johnny  Got  the  Ring  233 

rious  criminal.  He  had  denied  having  any 
knowledge  of  the  working  of  that  strange  color- 
photo  camera.  Black  McCree  had  chosen  to 
take  that  secret  with  him  to  the  other  world. 
Pant  had  turned  the  whole  matter  over  to  two 
of  his  assistants  and  had  disappeared.  That  the 
remains  of  the  camera  could  be  pieced  together 
was  doubtful. 

In  the  struggle  with  Black  McCree,  Tom 
Stick  had  been  beaten  into  unconsciousness,  and 
had  suffered  severe  bruises,  but  would  be  back 
at  his  work  in  two  or  three  weeks. 

The  twins  had  been  taken  to  a  near-by  farm 
house,  where  they  were  safe  for  the  night. 
Fortunately,  their  ponies  had  come  out  of  the 
wreck  uninjured.  In  an  hour  or  two  Johnny 
would  accompany  them  to  their  grandparents' 
home.  Should  he  return  to  the  circus?  He 
doubted  it.  The  mystery  of  the  whereabouts  of 
the  diamond  ring  was  yet  unsolved.  Gwen  had 
had  it.  So  had  Millie.  He  half  blamed  himself 
for  not  demanding  the  right  to  keep  it  when  it 
was  in  his  own  hand.  But  Gwen  was  such  a 


234  The  Crimson  Flash 

good  sport.  He  had  hoped  a  more  appropriate 
time  might  come.  Now  he  believed  he  would 
go  to  his  former  employer  and  make  the  best  of 
an  unbelievable  story.  He  made  a  wry  face  at 
thought  of  it. 

But  Pant  ?  He  had  disappeared  again.  Johnny 
had  not  seen  him  after  the  fight  with  the  black 
cat.  Mother  Kelly  had  dressed  his  wounds, 
which  were  sligfht,  and  he  had  vanished. 

At  thought  of  Pant,  Johnny  dug  into  his 
pocket  and  drew  forth  the  mass  of  wires,  tubes 
and  instruments  Which  he  had  picked  up  on  the 
spot  where  the  cat  had  attacked  Pant. 

He  toyed  with  this  mass  musingly.  He 
thought  it  had  dropped  from  Pant's  pocket. 
"Some  part  of  the  counterfeiters'  equipment," 
was  his  mental  comment.  Twisting  the  wires 
about,  he  turned  a  thumb-screw  here,  pushed  a 
tiny  lever  there,  pressed  a  bulb — when,  of  a 
sudden,  his  eyes  were  struck  by  a  blinding  flash 
of  blood  red  light. 

His  unnerved  fingers  released  the  mass  of 
wires,  tubes  and  instruments,  and  the  next  in- 


How  Johnny  Got  the  Ring  235 

stant  his  startled  eyes  saw  it  disappear  beneath 
the  muddy  waters  of  the  river. 

"The  crimson  flash!"  he  moaned.  "And  I 
had  the  secret  of  it  here  within  my  grasp ! " 

For  a  time  he  considered  the  possibilities 
of  recovering  it,  then  dismissed  the  thought  as 
futile. 

Then  for  a  while  he  sat  there  speculating  on 
the  strange  phenomenon  of  the  crimson  flash. 
How  had  Pant  achieved  these  wonders?  Where 
had  he  worn  this  mass  of  delicate  instruments? 
There  were  times  when  the  flash  had  come  and 
gone  with  the  speed  of  the  blink  of  an  eye. 
Perhaps  the  switch  had  been  attached  to  Pant's 
eyelid.  Such  things  had  been  done.  Yet,  all 
this  was  speculation.  Johnny  shook  his  mind 
free  from  it.  Speculation  is  always  futile. 

He  was  about  to  rise  and  return  to  the  wreck, 
which  was  even  now  assuming  the  appearance 
of  a  train  again,  when  he  heard  footsteps  ap- 
proaching. 

It  was  Gwen.  Johnny  rose  to  meet  her  as  she 
came  toward  him. 


236  The  Crimson  Flash 

"  Sit  down,  Mr.  Clown,"  she  smiled.  "  I  want 
to  talk." 

''  You're  a  good  old  clown,"  she  smiled  again, 
as  they  seated  themselves,  "  even  if  you  did  come 
near  breaking  your  neck." 

"Somebody  fired  the  balloons  with  arrows 
shot  from  an  air  rifle." 

"What!" 

"Sure.  I  thought  it  was  Tom  Stick,  but  it 
wasn't.  He  saved  my  life  last  night.  Guess 
someone  must  have  stolen  his  air  rifle  to  pull 
the  trick." 

"As  I  was  about  to  say,"  continued  Gwen, 
"you're  a  good  old  clown,  and  just  for  that  I 
want  to  give  you  something.  So,  'open  your 
mouth  and  shut  your  eyes,  and  I'll  give  you 
something  to  make  you  wise." 

"  Steady  there,"  warned  Johnny,  as  he  cupped 
his  hands  solidly  together.  "  If  it's  of  any  value 
don't  drop  it.  I've  lost  one  secret  in  the  river 
already." 

"It's  valuable,  all  right." 

Johnny  felt  something  touch  his  hand.     The 


How  Johnny  Got  the  Ring  237 

instant  his  fingers  closed  upon  it,  he  knew  what 
it  was. 

"The  ring!"  he  exclaimed. 

"Yes;  that's  it,"  she  laughed.  "The  twins 
told  me  all  about  it  last  night.  Of  course  we 
didn't  know  it  was  yours,  or  we  wouldn't  have 
kept  it.  When  we  first  found  it,  we  three  girls 
thought  it  was  glass.  When  we  discovered  it 
was  a  real  diamond,  we  were  already  in  Chicago 
and  didn't  know  what  to  do,  so  we  just  kept  it, 
and  took  turns  wearing  it.  But  Johnny,  when 
you  had  it  in  your  hands  that  day,  why  didn't 
you  keep  it?" 

"That's  what  I  don't  know,"  smiled  Johnny. 
"  I  guess  you  were  such  a  good  sport  I  hated  to 
lose  you  as  a  friend,  and  I  hoped  a  better  time 
would  come." 

"  It  has  come,  Johnny ;  but  something  tells  me 
I  am  the  one  to  lose  a  pal.  You'll  leave  the 
circus  ?  " 

"Yes,"  Johnny  admitted  reluctantly.  "I 
guess  I'm  going  to  do  that." 

"It's  always  the  way  with  a  person  who  is 


238  The  Crimson  Flash 

used  to  living  in  a  house,"  sighed  Gwen.  "The 
circus  is  for  circus  people.  Anyway,  I  can  wish 
you  good  luck!" 

They  rose.  She  put  out  her  hand.  He  gripped 
it  heartily. 

"And  Johnny,  if  ever  the  big  top  calls  to  you, 
just  remember  the  outfit  I'm  with,  and  there'll 
be  a  job  waiting  for  you.  I'll  want  you  for  my 
clown." 

She  turned  and  walked  rapidly  away. 

Johnny  watched  her  for  a  moment,  then, 
crossing  the  bridge,  made  his  way  toward  the 
farm  house  where  the  twins  were  awaiting  him. 
He  would  escort  them  back  to  a  safe  dwelling 
place;  the  ring  should  be  returned  to  them,  and 
if  possible,  he  was  resolved  that  the  circus  career 
of  the  millionaire  twins  should  be  a  secret  shared 
only  by  those  to  whom  it  was  already  known. 


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